


Two Is More Than half Pt 3

by Shire55



Category: P/C - Fandom, Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: F/M, h/c
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-21
Updated: 2012-07-21
Packaged: 2017-11-10 09:48:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 60,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/464925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shire55/pseuds/Shire55
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Enterprise is sent to answer a call for help. What they discover will rock Picard and Crusher to their cores.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Is More Than half Pt 3

Will had seen the exchange between Beverly and the conscience and his friend’s abrupt exit. He could only assume something had happened. He extracted himself from the children and wandered over to the conscience, finding him seemingly in deep thought, the now familiar gesture of him rubbing his lower lip having less an effect on Will. Just as he was about to ask if everything was all right, the twin’s head rose and he speared Will with a piercing look.  
“I think your presence is no longer required, Commander.”  
Shaking his head and holding up a hand, the exec said, “Wait a minute! You can’t send me back; I have to stay, at least until Captain Picard’s well again.”  
The smile was cold. “Technically he not unwell, Commander. He suffers no illness, simply some anomalous physical and psychological conditions which my healers are in the process of addressing.”  
Will opened his mouth to argue, but the conscience just shook his head, ignoring Will’s unvoiced opinion entirely. “He is with his one, who, I do not need to remind you, is a healer.”  
Despite the seeming dismissal of Will’s protest, he spoke anyway. “That doesn’t matter! Until I see my captain once again whole and hearty, both mentally and physically, I’m staying!”  
“So infantile.” sighed the twin. “And just what do you think you can do to stop me from returning you to your ship?”  
Will was about to tell him when the next thing he saw was the dimly lit living area of his quarters. His shouted, “Fuck!” Startled the babysitter, bringing the young man to his feet, a now crying Charlotte in one of his arms, his other hand holding a bottle. Hearing the sounds of the red alert, Will lifted his head and barked, “Bridge, this is Riker. Cancel read alert!”  
Even through his anger he heard the hesitancy in Powers voice as she said “Are you all right, Commander?”  
“Yes.” He sighed, gritting his teeth and sighing.  
“And Captain Picard and Doctor Crusher?” Powers voice was growing in confidence.  
“They’re okay, sort of.”  
“Sort of, sir?”  
“I’ll be coming up soon; Lieutenant I’ll fill you in then. Riker out.”  
Having calmed himself somewhat, Will went to the sitter and eased Charlotte out of the young man’s arm and into his own. He took the bottle, but instead of trying to feed the still crying baby, he said over the noise, “It’s okay, Ensign, you can take it easy for a little while. I’ll settle her and finish this feed, but then I have to get to the bridge.”   
Summoning a smile, the young man nodded. “Thank you, sir.” He was about to retake his seat when he hesitated and said to Will’s retreating form. “Welcome back, Commander.”  
Over his shoulder, Will’s smile lacked true warmth, but his eyes did twinkle slightly. “Thanks.” He said quietly, before disappearing into his bedroom.  
He left his quarters reluctantly half an hour later. Charlotte was lying on a soft, quilted mat on the carpeted floor under the watchful gaze of her sitter and Will had no further excuse to stay. But even as she strode out of his cabin, the urge to remain dogged him.   
By the time he was in the lift, he’d shoved his feelings to one side and once again assumed the mantle of command. Powers rose from the main seat as Will exited the lift.  
“Commander, it’s good to see you, sir.” She said, trying for a serious expression, but unable to keep the ghost of a smile from her face. It wasn’t a smile of amusement, however, but one of nervous relief.   
Nodding knowingly, Will took his seat and said wryly, “I don’t suppose you have anything to report, Lieutenant?”  
The young woman flushed, and resisted the urge to fidget. “Well, no, not exactly…but I think…maybe…”  
To Will’s questioning look, Powers sighed and gestured to the image on the forward viewscreen. “I’m fairly sure we’re still in orbit.”  
That made Will frown. “Why would you think we weren’t?” He said carefully.  
Puffing out a breath through her nose, Powers again gestured to the screen. “When you were…taken…sir, we found ourselves just as we’ve been since arriving….just as we still are and that’s effectively blind. So I ordered a probe to be launched.”  
“A probe?” said as now clearly confused Will. “Why a probe, Lieutenant”  
“Well, sir, a comment made by one of the bridge crew gave me reason to question whether or not we are actually where we think we are. I mean, we can’t actually verify it, sir.”  
Nodding slowly, his eyes glittering, Will began to understand. “And just where did you send the probe, Lieutenant?”  
Straightening her already stiff posture, Powers said calmly, “Directly at the planet’s surface, Commander.”  
His smile was cold. “That way you’d be able to register its destruction. Good thinking, Lieutenant” Said an impressed Will. By the lack of response to his compliment, Will knew there was more. He didn’t have to ask Powers to continue.  
“It would’ve been, sir, had it worked.” To Will’s raised eyebrow, Powers sighed. “As far as we’re concerned, the probe was destroyed before it barely entered what little atmosphere exists around the bloody…” She flushed and lowered her head. “Sorry, Commander.” She took a deep breath and tried again. “The thing is, sir, we have no way of knowing if the probe was destroyed by something from the planet, or if we’re light years away and a cloaked ship is projecting that image,” She pointed at the screen. “…and destroyed the probe to keep up the pretence.”  
Stroking his beard, Will mulled over the problem. He turned his attention to the screen and said thoughtfully, “My transport was instantaneous. Is it possible they can transport over vast distances that fast?”

“We’ve been thinking the same thing, sir. As far as our computer’s concerned, even given their advanced technology, there’s still the Heisenberg principle to consider. We,” she swept her hand in an arc to encompass the entire bridge crew, “…since the first…disappearance of Doctor Crusher, have been accessing the computer, asking for an analysis of the comings and goings and as far as it’s concerned, if the aliens are using any kind of molecular transportation, then they simply can’t do it in the time allowed if the distance is greater than what we can see for ourselves...or at least an achievable distance and that always has a time variance. Basically, the further you transport, the longer it takes, but as you know, sir, it’s a finite distance.”  
Will gave that some thought and nodded. “Hmm, and we know as far as we’re concerned that’s about 30,000 kms. Yes, I agree. Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle suggests that on a sub atomic level, it’s possible to know the motion or position of a particle, but not both, hence our Heisenberg compensators. So, if the aliens are transporting molecularly…”  
Powers shook her head. “They must’ve found a way to compensate for the movement of space in a way we haven’t thought of…or…”  
Will’s expression soured. “…they’re not using molecular transport, which brings us back to that.” He stabbed his finger at the image of the planet. “Are we where we think we are?”  
Powers shrugged and glared at the image. “We don’t know! And the frustrating thing is, we can’t figure out how to prove it one way or another, sir.”  
Will brought his attention back to the woman, a small smile on his face. “Yet you said you were fairly sure we were still in orbit? Why, Lieutenant? Why do you think that?”  
Colour spread up from her uniform collar to heat her face. She cast a sideways glance at the young woman at the helm, trying to catch her eye, but the ensign kept her gaze firmly fixed on her console. With no backup, Powers swallowed and brought herself back to attention.  
“Gut feeling, sir.”  
Will hadn’t missed anything of the byplay and he was aware of the earlier conversation his captain had had with the ensign at the helm. His turned his head and said quietly, “Ensign Bates; isn’t it? Faye Bates?”  
The woman turned her seat and nodded, her eyes solemn. A feeling of impending doom making her eyes glitter. “Yes, Commander.”  
“And what’ve you got to say about this, Ensign Bates?”  
Her eyes darting to lieutenant Powers, Bates swallowed and said quietly, “I ah…I may have given Lieutenant Powers the impression that I was sure we were still in orbit, sir.”  
Will’s expression hardened. “An impression, Ensign? Based on what?”  
Shaking her head, her voice dropped until Will had to strain to hear. “I had a feeling, sir, a really strong feeling, so I…well, I used a simple trick my dad showed me when I was young, when we used to stalk animals to take vids.”  
Folding his arms across his barrel-like chest, Will’s gaze was steady, but not intimidating. He well recalled his captain’s encouragement to listen to instinct…gut feelings. “Go on.” He said quietly.  
“The running lights, sir.”  
His patience was wearing a little thin, but he remained calm. “What about them?”  
“Well…when my dad wanted to check to see if a nest or set was occupied, he’d sometimes send a shaft of light inside. If there was anything there, quite often he’d get a reaction, either by the rate of absorption, which he measured, or the animal, if it was in the burrow or whatever, would react to the light. So I redirected our port running light to do a simple…bounce. Although it’s not conclusive, I mean it could just as easily bounce off a nearby ship as the planet, but taking into account the time it took and the rate of absorption, my guess is…that…” she pointed with her chin at the image of the planet. “…is the real deal, sir.”  
Will refocused on lieutenant Powers. “And you agree with this?”  
Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, the lieutenant nodded. “Yes, sir, I do.”  
Pursing his lips, Will turned and gazed yet again at the enigmatic image on the screen. He sighed and shook his head. “Well, we’ve little else to go on, but I’d like Commander La Forge to hear what you’ve got to say about this…bouncing…ensign. I want you to report to engineering and liaise with him, tell him I want him to see if he can expound on your efforts to see if we can get a definitive reading one way or another.”  
Coming to her feet, the ensign nodded. “Aye, sir.”  
As she went to the lift, Will said quietly, “Although it should be pointed out we’re not stalking anything, your initiative was commendable, Ensign. Well done.”  
Reddening, the woman smiled as she activated the lift call pad. “Thank you, sir.”  
As she boarded the car, Will turned back to Powers. “And well done to you too, Lieutenant. It’s a sign of a good leader that you listen to and encourage those under your command.”   
Powers was about to offer her thanks when Will said softly, “Captain Picard would be very pleased.”  
The lieutenant sighed and summoned a smile. Her voice was soft when she said, “Thank you, Commander. That means a lot to me.”  
“So it should.” Will replied solemnly. His face brightened a little when he said, “I have seen both the captain and Doctor Crusher and I can tell you that, although the captain’s a bit under the weather, basically they’re both okay.”  
“When will they be back, sir?”  
Will’s expression fell. “That I can’t say; Lieutenant. It’s in the hands of the aliens.”  
“Damn.” Powers said quietly. Will snorted and said with a trace of amusement, “Very restrained of you, Lieutenant. I could easily think of some more…colourful terms…in several languages.”  
Jody Powers snorted and shook her head, taking the seat to Will’s left. Together they sat…and waited.

 

The night had been a long one, but oddly it passed only as time, the light inside the room never altered, just as the light…or lack of it…barely altered outside the building. Guessing it was sometime in mid-morning, Beverly was standing in front of Jean-Luc, having just given him a glass of water. At some stage during what she thought of as night, she’d asked the healers if he could eat, but although he’d asked for food the previous day, she had been advised it would be best if his stomach had no solid food in it.  
Jean-Luc was sitting sideways on the bed, his legs dangling over the edge. He was still naked and, although he seemed to be nearing the stage of memory recovery that was almost up-to-date, he still didn’t seem to recognise Beverly and persisted in speaking exclusively in French.  
Beverly’s knowledge and recent use of his native tongue had improved her French immensely but even so, it was at times difficult for her to converse easily with him. The healers had provided her with a small screen to help her interpret his speech, but she floundered a little with her own.  
She was just haltingly trying to explain why he couldn’t eat when the doors slid silently open and she heard the almost soundless foot falls of the conscience. It wasn’t until he reached her side that Beverly realised with a sinking feeling that she knew who it was without having to see him. His presence registered within her subliminally just as Jean-Luc’s did.  
Beverly did her best to ignore him as she went on with her broken French. He listened for only a few minutes before interrupting Beverly by saying quietly to his brother, “Jean-Luc, alors que vous êtes toujours en convalescence, il vaut mieux que vous ne mangez pas n′importe quoi.”  
Feeling unreasonably annoyed, Beverly said tightly, “I can manage, thank you.”  
“I am sure you can, Beverly,” The twin said placatingly. “But you were not finding it easy to tell my brother that until he recovers it is best he does not eat.”  
She couldn’t disagree with him and indeed, part of her was grateful for his help, but she felt so vulnerable when he was near, even in the company of her husband, she allowed anger to shield her from more difficult emotions, emotions that scared her.  
“Yes, well as I said, I can manage, there’s no need for you to stay.” Her tone was brittle and cold.  
With the same unruffled, maddening calm Jean-Luc so often displayed, especially in the face of Beverly’s mercurial temper, the conscience said mildly, “We should talk.”  
Keeping her eyes grimly fixed on Jean-Luc, who was staring at his twin with wonder, Beverly snapped, “I don’t want to talk to you! There’s nothing to talk about!”  
“Oh, but there is, Beverly…and you know it.”  
The voice…it crept inside her, easily circumventing her defences and wrapping around her mind and her heart. Steeling herself, Beverly tore her eyes from her husband to look at his twin. It was a monumental mistake. Caught in the intensity of his gaze, Beverly stood rooted to the spot and speechless, her heart pounding as he lifted a hand and gently tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.  
“Tellement belle, Beverly,” he sighed wistfully. “Ces belle chevelure rouges. Vous êtes charmante. Je vois pourquoi mon frère vous trouve tellemant passionnant.”  
Beverly only understood part of what he’d said, but it was enough for her to know he told her she was beautiful, had lovely red hair and that it was little wonder her husband was so enthralled by her and although his gentle declarations shocked and alarmed her, his voice, his face…his very presence made her begin to tremble. Helplessly she watched as he leaned in, cradled her face in his hands and kissed her again.  
Her heart was pounding so hard she was sure he must be able to hear it. Involuntarily her mouth opened, and he hesitated, but he seemed to know instinctively what to do as he tentatively introduced his tongue into her mouth. The unintended, soft moan that escaped Beverly’s mouth only encouraged the twin. What might have escalated into something deeper and far more dangerous was halted abruptly by Jean-Luc asking in shocking innocence,  
“Que fais-je?”  
Startled and appalled, Beverly wrenched free of the twin’s hands and mouth. She stared at him like a frightened animal, backing away and wiping her mouth. Calmly the conscience said to his brother, “Nous embrasser celui que nous voulons.”  
Stunned out of her shock, Beverly hissed, “Why did you tell him that?! I am NOT the one you want! And why are you saying we?”  
With the same studied calm, the conscience asked, “Did you not understand what he said?”  
Frowning, Beverly replied, “He said…What are you doing?”  
Shaking his head and with a condescending smile on his face, the twin said, “No he did not. You have misinterpreted…only a slight error, but an important one. What my brother said was…What am I doing? He is still thinking he is me…and I am him. So I told him we were kissing you…the one we want.”  
“That is disgusting!” blurted a shaken Beverly. “You’re taking advantage of a helpless man…your brother…your twin for God’s sake! How could you be so…perverted?!”  
Her anger and outrage washed over the man harmlessly. He shrugged, offering a small, knowing smile. It infuriated Beverly.  
“Perverted? Do you really think that of me, Beverly? Or do you perhaps think you might be a peu titillé, un peu flatté?”  
Gaping at his audacity, Beverly hissed, “You think I’m titillated and flattered? My God…your ego…your conceit! I wouldn’t…”  
His smile grew and somewhere deep inside Beverly knew he was right. “Would you not, my lovely Beverly? I seem to recall it was you who…” he rolled his hand, his eyes glittering. He was playing with her and enjoying it and Beverly, on some level, knew this game and wanted it. “…pris mon brasser et approfondie.”  
Through gritted teeth, Beverly ground out, “I did not take your kiss and deepen it!”  
His smug smile said otherwise and she knew it was the truth. “I am the novice, Beverly…you lead, I follow.”  
Panic setting in, all Beverly could do was shake her head in denial. “No! I am not leading! I’ve done nothing to give you any impression that I was remotely interested in you!”  
“Just being here is reason enough, Beverly. From the moment I first saw you I was…captivé.”  
“I don’t care! You can be as captivated as you want, it’s not reciprocated!”  
He moved across the room and Beverly retreated. He stopped; a frown on his face. “Why are you denying the truth? I feel it, Beverly. I do not understand it, I have never felt anything like this before, but you cannot say it does not exist!”  
“Get out!” Shouted Beverly, spittle flying from her mouth. “Get out and go back to your one!”  
The conscience looked over his shoulder at his brother who was still watching the tense exchange with enthralled interest. Sighing, the conscience turned back to Beverly. “I will leave, Beverly, but bear in mind…you are dealing with both of us. When you touch him, when you speak mots tendres to him, you are interagissant with both of us. I do not understand this, I did not seek it, but I cannot nor will I deny it.”  
In his absence, a trembling Beverly went to her husband and took him in her arms. She was unable to stop her tears and they only increased as Jean-Luc said softy, “Qu′ai-je fait?”  
Smiling with what she hoped was genuine warmth and compassion, Beverly said tremulously, “Rien, Jean-Luc, vous n′avez rien fait.”  
She hugged him to her and his arms came up automatically to return her embrace. She closed her eyes, thinking, It’s true, my love, you did nothing, nothing at all…it was me. Oh, dear God…forgive me, mon coeur, please, forgive me!”

 

It was a combination of increased light and the gentle pressure of a hand on her shoulder that brought Beverly back to herself. She had held Jean-Luc while she struggled to regain her equilibrium. He sat passively, holding her, but only doing so because he didn’t know what else to do.   
Welcoming the healer’s presence, Beverly asked sharply, “Why doesn’t he recognise me? I don’t understand. If his memory has been restored, why is she still like this?” She gestured to the man who watched the people talking with mild interest, but seemingly with no comprehension.  
The healer’s hands rose and Beverly looked down at her screen.  
“We did not anticipate this. There has been some kind of disconnection between his memories and the emotional content. Also, he does not seem to be associating the memories with himself. We have been postulating that some outside factor may be the cause. It may even be possible that the nanites took with them engrams that he requires to complete his memories; that is to integrate them in their entirety with him as an individual.”  
“So…” Beverly rubbed her temple, feeling a tension headache brewing. “…it’s like dissociation?”  
“In a way, however, his condition has not come about as a result of physical or psychological trauma.”  
Pulling her lips to one side, Beverly waved one hand. “But what about his memories? I mean he relived everything….basically from birth to now. Surely he experienced deep psychological trauma when he relived all the worst of his memories. And believe me he’s had some horrendous experiences.”  
“We are aware of the contents of his mind and, as we have already explained, he has the capacity to know how to cope with the more…damaging memories. It seems he has done this deliberately, albeit on a subconscious level.”  
Sighing, Beverly gently lifted Jean-Luc’s chin and looked into her husband’s clear hazel eyes, but the lack of any recognition, the absence of intelligence, warmth and love made her lower her eyes, struggling to remain calm, when all she wanted to do was weep.  
“Where is he?” She said quietly. “Where is my Jean-Luc?”  
“We do not know.”  
“Can you get him back?”  
“We believe given time, he will return on his own; there is certainly no physical reason why he should not. His brain is functioning normally and his body, apart from the as yet to be repaired neural bundles, is also functioning well.”  
Lifting her eyes and nearly sobbing when Jean-Luc smiled with blank innocence, Beverly swallowed her grief and said brokenly, “Is there anything I can do to help him?”  
“We feel simply being with him is most probably the best thing you can do. Talk to him, Beverly. Keep talking to him. It matters not what the subject matter is, generalities or something more personal, just be with him, become part of what he now sees as his existence. He may not associate himself with you on a personal level, but even becoming accustomed to your presence, your physical touch, may trigger in him the release that allows full integration of memories with emotions and their application to him.”  
The healer turned to leave when a thought struck Beverly. She reached out and plucked the being’s sleeve. “What about his brother?” she asked with trepidation.  
“We feel it imperative the conscience spends as much time as he can with his brother. Even though Captain Picard is not yet aware of his individuality, seeing his brother, especially as they are physically identical may offer the captain an outlet for emotions as they arise. It may be that he feels less threatened by his twin than anyone else…even you, Beverly.”  
Beverly’s face fell as the ramifications became clear. “Oh, dear God…” she thought helplessly. “I can’t do it! I can’t be in the same room as him.”  
If the healer saw Beverly’s distress she said nothing. After a moment’s waiting, the healer retreated back to join her colleagues in the booth, leaving a distraught Beverly with her oblivious husband who continued to smile at her, his eyes blank.

The female knew her one had changed on a fundamental level. They’d made love and although it was physically satisfying, she knew instinctively he was not with her at the moments of ultimate elation, at least not emotionally.  
Once her radiance had abated, she gently eased the eye shield from his face and regarded him with eyes he’d never seen. She had long ago found that he would talk about his feelings…but only to a point. She had never discovered if his reticence was natural or a consequence of his position as the conscience, so she knew asking him why he had changed was pointless. But she loved him and was hurt and confused by his withdrawal.  
Very gently she ran her fingertips over his sensitive scalp, something she knew he enjoyed and would, if they wished, become a precursor to more lovemaking. But he reached up and gently took her wrist, bringing her hand to his chest.  
She raised her free hand to let him know she wished to talk to him, but he sighed and shook his head. “No, my one, I do not wish to engage in conversation.”  
She sighed too and tucked her head under his chin, His people had the ability to weep, although it was rare and the fluid extruded from their eyes was gelatinous and slightly toxic to him. He tolerated the slight discomfort on the skin of his chest until guilt and remorse made him lift her head and use his hands to wipe away tears he couldn’t see.  
“I know; my beloved one and if I could explain it, I would.”  
There was a long silence before he said, “She…m′enivre…she intoxicates me. I cannot explain it, I do not understand it.”  
He wrapped his arms around his one and placed his cheek on her bare head. “My love for you has not changed, nor will it ever. You have been my one, my only one and you are the mother of my children. I do understand your sacrifice in consenting to be my one and I give you my word, my solemn oath, I will not leave you, but I am helpless in this situation with my brother’s one. I am…contraint…compelled…” he sighed and rolled onto his back, taking the female with him. She settled in his arms as he started up at the ceiling. “His one…Beverly…she told me about a phenomenon…little understood apparently even after centuries of study, whereby twins, especially identical twins can share some kind of…connexion…a mental…télépathique connexion…” he sighed again. “Perhaps that has something to do with it?”  
Without her one’s unwillingness to use the screen, the female had lacked the opportunity to have any input in the discussion, so her only option was to use body language to let her one know she understood, at least on some level. What she was unable to impart was her hurt.  
They lay together for some time before the conscience replaced the eye shield and made love to her again and this time he strove to give all of himself to her. Whether or not he was successful, only she could tell.

 

The subtly strobing light over the door woke the lightly sleeping man. He stifled a sigh of irritation at the inevitability of this intrusion into his privacy. It was yet another manifestation of how he’d changed since his introduction to the humans. Never before had he even thought of any interruption of his time with his family as an intrusion. As the conscience he was always available. Not so now. Now he felt an undercurrent of resentment. Nevertheless, a lifetime of habit had him gently disengage from his sleeping one and leave the bed, dressing quickly.   
On exiting his bedroom, he found his adviser waiting.  
“Yes?” he said with unnecessarily curtness.  
“I have come from the healers. It is their considered opinion it would be better for your brother if you were with him.”  
Lowering his head and striving for calm, the conscience considered the information. He wanted to help his brother but knew he would have to interact with Beverly as there was no way she would leave her husband. The implications were dire and he wasn’t sure how to respond. Even though separated, he still felt her pull…her influence over him. However he couldn’t deny the same emotional tug, the precise same need to be with his twin drew him with just as much intensity. Sighing, he nodded; his deep voice soft as he said resignedly, “Very well.”

 

Beverly had found some success in acquiring a translator for her screen. Now, when she failed in her attempts to find the correct words on her own, she only had to say the equivalent words in standard and the screen would provide the correct words in French. It sounded the words as well as showed them, so all Beverly had to do was repeat them.  
She was relating a story about a time she, Jean-Luc and Jack had gone camping. Her laughter was forced, but it seemed to intrigue Jean-Luc. Twice he’d lifted his hand to touch her face, tracing her lips as she smiled. If only there was something in his eyes…  
Her head snapped up, her pupils dilating as her mind shouted, “He’s coming!”  
She froze, causing Jean-Luc to gently poke her shoulder and say, “Plus d′histoires. Dites-moi plus d′histoires, s′il tu plaît?”  
Her heart beginning to pound and the headache that had been in the background intensifying, Beverly glanced nervously at the door and said distractedly,  
“I’ll tell you some more stories soon, my love.”  
Upon looking back at her husband she saw his confusion. Pushing her hair back off her shoulders, Beverly summoned a wan smile and said, “Je vais vous raconter des histoires un peu plus tôt.”  
He stared, neither disappointed or happy. He simply accepted. As she knew it would, the door slid open without a sound and, as the conscience approached, so did the feeling of undeniable attraction grow as he neared her. By the time he took his place on the opposite side of the bed, Beverly’s heart was racing so fast she felt light-headed. She tried to reason it out. Was it because of the intensely potent attraction or was it fear, fear of what she might do….or he might do or was it a combination of it all?   
The mélange of emotions was eroding her self control and the headache was getting above her ability to withstand it. Forcing herself away from the bed, she managed to say, “I’ll be back in a minute, Jean-Luc.” Before almost staggering over to the booth. Jean-Luc watched her go and turned to his brother. Patiently the twin supplied, “Elle sera bientôt de retour.”  
Jean-Luc gave no reaction to being told Beverly would return soon. He simply regarded his brother with interest. The twin smiled and said gently, “Vous me connaissez n′est-ce pas.”  
Nodding was the first reaction Jean-Luc had given to anyone. “Oui. Je vous connais. Vous êtes moi.”  
The conscience hitched his backside on the bed and sighed, watching his brother thoughtfully.  
“So, you know me, Jean-Luc.” He thought. “You think I am you.” Casting a glance over to the booth and seeing the healers doing something to Beverly’s head, the twin redirected his gaze to his brother and muttered softly, “Je veux qu′elle vous le savez, Jean-Luc. Quoi qu′il en soit vous avez avec elle, je le veux aussi.”  
Sensing her approach, the twin looked up to see Beverly returning, her eyes on the screen she carried. By the time she’d reached the bed, her anger was overriding her fear and dread.  
“How dare you!” She hissed. “Telling Jean-Luc you want me and that whatever it is he has with me, you want it too! You have no right to even suggest such a hideous thing!”  
The two beings glared at each other, the tension palpable. It was utterly shattered when Jean-Luc said quietly, but with complete clarity, “Beverly, we want you.”  
There was no emotion in his words, but the words themselves were so shocking, Beverly gaped, saying weakly, “What?”  
Reverting to French he said, “C′est vrai. Nous vous voulez. Nous vous avons toujours voulu.”  
He said it so blandly, he might as well have been ordering breakfast. Beverly shook her head, her mind tumbling over the words. “It’s true. We want you. We have always wanted you.”  
She reached for his hand and he watched her take it with no more interest than watching a fly on the wall. Lifting his hand, Beverly managed to get him to look at her. “Can you understand me, Jean-Luc?”  
He nodded and relief flooded through the doctor. At least he now understood standard. She summoned what she hoped was a warm, encouraging smile that reached her eyes. “I love you, Jean-Luc. You are my husband and I am your wife. You are an individual, Jean-Luc, just one man, not two. He…” she pointed with her chin at the twin. “Is not you. Do you understand?”  
Jean-Luc turned and looked at his brother and sighed. “Mais il est moi. Je suis lui.”  
“No!” Beverly sharp voice drew Jean-Luc’s attention back to her. “You aren’t him and he’s not you!”  
Now obviously confused, Jean-Luc looked back at his twin, his eyes roaming over the man’s face and body. Jean-Luc was still naked, but he knew what lay under his brother’s clothing. Shaking his head, he pointed at his twin. “Nous sommes un. Il n′ya aucune différence.”  
Quelling her rising panic at both his intractability and his twin’s smug acceptance, Beverly persisted. “No! You are not one! There are differences!”  
Before Jean-Luc could say anything further, the conscience said quietly, “This is pointless, Beverly. He accepts things as they are. So should you.”  
“And do what?!” She snapped. “Fuck you? That’s what you want, isn’t it!”  
His eyebrows rose and his smile was knowing. “That depends, Beverly.”  
“Oh what?!’” she spat.  
“On how much you want to baise-moi.”  
Her face screwed up, but she couldn’t deny the ache between her legs. “You’re disgusting!”  
Giving a one-shoulder shrug, the conscience made Beverly tremble as he casually made his way around the bed. She stood her ground though, determined to make him see, if only outwardly, that she refused to be intimidated. It worked until he got too close. Her resolve broke and she went to move away, but he caught her arm and dragged her to him, taking her in his arms and nuzzling under her ear. His deep, rumbling voice only served to increase her insidious arousal. “I do not know how I know how to do this, but do it I must. Feel me, Beverly…I am for you as are for me and always have been. Our wait is finally over.”  
He kissed her then with deep passion and she sobbed into his mouth as she fell helplessly into the spell. Jean-Luc watched; a small smile on his face, his penis hardening. “Nous vous aimons, Beverly.” He whispered. “We love you.”  
The conscience’s hand went to her breast, his fingers teasing and tweaking the hard nipple with such scandalous familiarity, Beverly’s knees weakened. He wrapped one strong arm around her, pulling her tight up against him and she mewed at feeling his erection. But somehow, dragging it up from the depths of her mind, she found some trace of sanity. Wrenching her head sideways, she broke the kiss and pulled her hands from his back, placing her hands on his chest and trying to push him away. He resisted with ease, making Beverly sob, saying brokenly, “Please…please, let me go.”  
Nuzzling under her ear again, she felt the vibrations of his deep voice as he rumbled softly, “Why? Why should we stop when we both want this so much?”  
“But I don’t!” cried Beverly. It was her tears that made the conscience release her. Staggering backwards, Beverly covered her mouth with her hand, the sight of the obviously aroused man making her want to gape.  
“I do not understand!” He growled. “I know you want me, as I want you, yet you try to deny it!”  
Flicking her gaze at Jean-Luc, who sat impassively, his erection jutting out from his seated form, Beverly lifted a shaking hand and pointed to her husband. “He’s the one I want…not you!”  
The conscience glanced at his brother and shook his head. “He is me! Nous sommes un! Nous sommes mêmes!”  
“No!” shrieked Beverly, her hands fisted so tightly her fingernails bit cruelly into her palms. “You are not one, you are not the same! Why are you doing this? You must see something is very wrong here!”  
The man shrugged, slowly advancing on the distraught doctor. “What I see is my one, the only woman I have ever truly loved denying the truth!”  
“NO! It’s not you! It’s him!” Beverly stabbed her finger at Jean-Luc. “He’s the one who’s loved me for so long…so truly!” Sudden inspiration struck and she shouted, “Send us back to our ship!”  
“Quoi?”  
“You heard me! Send us back…right now!”  
Glancing back at his brother, the conscience shook his head. “No…he requires more…le traitement.”  
“Bullshit!” yelled Beverly. “You just don’t want to let us go! What are you going to do? Keep us against our will?”  
His smile was cold. “Que votre volonté, Beverly, pas de Jean-Luc.”  
Jerking her head, Beverly conceded the point. “All right, against my will, not Jean-Luc’s…but what about that? Hmm? Do you intend to force yourself on me? Me violer?”  
He flinched, his face registering his shock. “Rape you? I would never rape you, Beverly…” His voice dropped to a whisper. “J’taime.”  
Shaking her head, Beverly lowered her voice and tried to sound reasonable. “You don’t love me, you can’t. And the only way you’re going to get what you think you want is to take it, because I will not, I refuse, to give it to you! My love, both emotional and physical is reserved exclusively for my husband and that is NOT you! It will never be you!”  
The conscience stood in shocked silence, both people startled when Jean-Luc said quietly, “Serons-nous pas faire l′amour?”  
Skirting around the conscience, Beverly went to Jean-Luc and cradled his face in her hands. “No,” she said gently. “No one is going to make love, Jean-Luc. We’re…” she looked over at the twin, noticing he kept his gaze on the floor. “We’re going home, now.” She took a calming breath and directed her next words at the twin. “Aren’t we.”  
She blinked in disorientation as their surroundings changed instantly. Shocked onlookers took a few stunned seconds before rushing to assist. Helping hands eased Beverly to her feet, then joined her in aiding a bewildered Jean-Luc to his feet and over to a nearby biobed.  
They were back on the Enterprise, the sirens of red alert blaring.

 

Will bolted up from the command chair, quickly turning to face tactical. He never got to voice his question. Powers said crisply, but with relief, “Captain Picard and Doctor Crusher are back aboard, Commander.”  
“Where?” Barked Will.  
“Sick Bay, sir.”  
“You have the bridge, Lieutenant.”  
Powers left her station to take the command seat, saying respectfully, “Aye, sir.”  
Will was in the lift, descending before the lieutenant had taken her seat.  
Having seated Jean-Luc on the biobed, Beverly, holding him by the shoulder, turned to ask Alyssa Ogawa to find a gown for her husband when she felt his body begin to drop sideways. Snapping her head back, she was just in time to use both hands to catch, then lower him gently, swinging his legs up as she lay him down. One quick glance at the large screen at the head of the bed told her all she needed to know.  
“He’s unconscious!”  
Doctor Ogawa, not waiting for the gown, turned and took a folded blanket from a nearby bed and draped it over the captain’s insensate, naked body. Both women were studying the readouts when Will hurried in.   
The first thing Beverly knew of his presence was when he gently cupped her elbow. She half turned her head and he read fear in her eyes. He didn’t have to ask the obvious.  
“We can’t find anything wrong, at least not neurologically.” She said, although her flat delivery was at odds with what he’d seen in her eyes.  
To Will’s stony face, she sighed. “We don’t know. He was sitting here, bewildered…I think…then he just…keeled over.”  
The big man looked down at his captain and sighed. “So…?”  
Beverly shrugged. “I don’t know, Will. We watch…and wait.”  
Sensing his next question wasn’t going to be well received didn’t stop him from asking anyway. “And there’s no point in asking the aliens for help?”  
Beverly’s reply was cold and curt. “No.”  
“Okay.” said Will. “I’ll go back up to the bridge…see if they’ll talk to me. They might not give us any help, exactly, but they may be willing to offer some information we can use.” He turned, then hesitated and went back, saying quietly, “You’re going to have to give me a report at some stage, Beverly.”  
“I know.” she replied flatly. Will nodded and while he took another look at Jean-Luc he said very softly, “You’re okay?”  
“Yes.” No emotion, no hint of any inner turmoil which was telling in itself. Every time Jean-Luc had been brought in to sick bay in the past, even though Beverly had been able to function perfectly well as a doctor and put aside her feelings for the man, to those who knew her well her distress was obvious. To see and hear her so cold and unemotional when faced with this current situation with her husband both puzzled and alarmed Will, but he knew Beverly, knew her and trusted her. Without another word he left to return to the bridge.

 

The conscience dropped to his knees the instant the couple had vanished. The connection that had been so powerful was suddenly and brutally severed and in its absence he was left bereft, as if some integral part of himself had been savagely torn from within him. He folded, cradling his head in his hands. Two healers, a male and a female approached him cautiously. They knew he was physically well, but just as they were almost at his side, he slowly toppled over.   
Dropping to their knees and passing small devices over his head, the male lifted his hands and said, “The prefrontal cortex is malfunctioning. The conscience is experiencing loss of cognitive functions and his personality is being subsumed.”  
“Yes.” Agreed the female. “But by what?”  
“I do not know. We need to access the archives.”  
“I will summon assistance to place the conscience on the bed while you do the necessary research. I do not need to express the need for haste.”  
“You will access the essence?”  
“Yes.”  
The two parted, leaving the conscience lying curled on his side on the floor, unconscious.

 

Normally Will’s lack of patience had always been a comfort to him, as it gave him legitimate reason to stalk and express his pent up emotions, but with his captain’s well being at stake and the known glaring disparity between the technology of Enterprise and the beings on the planet below, Will had to curtail his instincts and act more like his captain. The irony was not lost on the big man.  
Taking yet another calming breath, Will said mildly, “Again, Lieutenant.”  
“Hailing frequencies, open, sir.”  
A few tense seconds passed before Powers said quietly, “No response, Commander.”  
Giving the young woman a do tell look, Will lifted his chin and stared at the planet through hooded lids. “All right, Lieutenant., continuous hail. All frequencies, all languages.” His expression turned uncharacteristically hard. “And crank up the volume! Transmit at full power.”  
Powers’ fingers hovered over the console, but before she tapped in the commands she said cautiously, “Sir? Why would we do that when we know what frequency and language we need to transmit with? And over such a small distance? We could do it with barely no power at all and still be heard clearly.”  
Will turned and regarded the woman with a cold smile. “Because, Lieutenant, it’s my way of shouting. It’s the only thing I can think of to make them understand that I want to talk to them and I’m not going to take no for an answer. Call it nagging if you will, but it’s my hope that someone down there,” he pointed without looking, “eventually gets fed up with our continuous, unrelenting noise.”  
Her eyebrows rose, but Powers carried out her orders. It wasn’t until she’d completed the simple task that Will said quietly, “And although I welcome curiosity from the crew, Lieutenant, I do not appreciate my orders being questioned. It isn’t your place to require me to explain myself. You just do as you’re told…when you’re told.”  
The woman reddened and lifted her chin. “Aye, Commander, my apologies, sir.” She said crisply.  
Later, when Will was stalking about the bridge, he stopped by Powers’ station and made a show of studying her console. Very softly, so no one else could hear, Will said, “There was a grain of personal truth in what I said, Jody, but mainly it was for the rest of the bridge crew’s benefit. Word will spread…people will react accordingly. I am satisfied with your performance; in fact I think you’re going to make a damned fine officer. Just learn to know when it’s appropriate to voice your concerns and questions. Okay?”  
Sighing with relief, Powers gave a surreptitious nod and said just as quietly, “Thank you, sir.”  
As he moved away, the lieutenant just caught his…“No problem.”

 

Five long hours later, Will was sitting in the centre seat, what little patience he possessed long gone. He had tried everything he knew including the unceasing hail, but the aliens remained implacably silent. Suddenly bursting into motion, Will sprang up from the chair and stalked quickly back and forth across the bridge.  
“Why the hell are we still here anyway? Doctor Crusher has done her damned job! I’ve had enough of this bullshit! Helm, set course back to Earth and once we’re clear of this shitty system, go to warp five and engage!”  
“Aye, sir!” said the ensign at the helm. But when his fingers danced over his console, his brow lowered and he began to repeat his actions. Will noticed immediately that she ship wasn’t moving. In two quick strides he was looming over the hapless young man.  
“What’s wrong? Why are we still here?” he said tersely.  
“I don’t know, sir….the ship’s not answering the helm.”  
Closing his eyes briefly, Will whispered, “You fuckers!” he then lifted his head and said curtly,  
“Engineering, this is the bridge.”  
Geordi LaForge answered, already aware of the situation. “LaForge here, Commander and before you ask, I don’t know. We’re working on it.”  
“Acknowledged, bridge out!”  
For forty long minutes Will sat in the command chair and stewed. Geordi’s call was welcomed.  
“What have you got, LaForge?”  
“Well nothing as to why the helm doesn’t respond, but Ensign Bates has given me an idea.”  
Will’s eyes settled on the ensign. She’d returned to the bridge some time ago and seemed as perplexed as Will.   
“Okay, Geordi, you’re going to have to explain that.”  
“I’m on my way up, Commander; I’ll be with you in a minute.”  
Will didn’t bother to close the channel. The lift doors opened and the dark engineer strode onto the bridge. Nodding respectfully to Will, he went straight to the engineering station. Will quickly joined him.  
“Right.” Will said decisively. “What’ve you got?”  
“It’s the light thing.”  
“The light thing?” Will’s eyes narrowed.  
“Yeah…” Geordi was obviously still thinking about it. “We want to get their attention…right? They’ve been ignoring us for hours, but now it seems they’re not letting us leave.”  
Will said nothing, just nodded.  
“So, I’ve been thinking. Why don’t we up the ante…make it patently obvious we want them to either talk to us…or let us leave?”  
Curbing his irritation, Will said succinctly, “And just how do we do that?”  
“Light.”  
“So you said, Geordi, but…” Will’s tone was tight. LaForge held up his hand. “Sorry, Commander, I’m still putting this together in my head.” Will calmed himself and summoned a smile. “Go on.”  
“Okay. Now we know that Ensign Bates bounced a shaft of simple red light…our port running light…so that having struck presumably the surface of the planet, it rebounded back to us, affording us the opportunity to measure not only the rate of absorption, which in turn told us a lot about the surface, but also the time it took for the complete bounce or echo to return. That told us, with some accuracy, how far away the target was.”  
Still struggling to stay calm, Will couldn’t keep the edge out of his voice as he reminded Geordi, “Yes, but didn’t we do the exact same thing using sonar? I know that was sound, not light, but…”  
“Hear me out, sir. What I’m thinking of isn’t a broad, undefined sweep, but a focused, deliberately aimed beam of red light…infra red light.”  
Will’s eyes glittered and his mouth thinned. “Target?” Then he held up his hand and shook his head curtly. “No, don’t tell me.” He smiled coldly. “The dish.”  
“Yes.” Geordi said softly.  
Stroking his beard, Will hadn’t noticed the silence on the bridge. It was as if everyone present was holding the collective breaths.  
“So what’d happen?”  
Geordi’s expression was grim. “Do you mean to the dish or us once they realise what we’ve done?”  
Will snorted and by his expression, Geordi could see he didn’t really care. As long as he got some kind of response from the aliens, he’d be satisfied. One way or another, Will had had enough.  
“Either, Geordi. Quite frankly at this point, I don’t give a flying fuck.” It was said quietly, but in the silence of the bridge everyone heard it. Nervous glances were exchange as the crew strained to hear what Geordi had to say.  
“Well, if we ignore the fact we’re probably going to piss them off…and we know how they react to that…as far as the dish goes, introducing infra red light into what we think is basically pure gamma radiation, it’s going to have a significant…and disruptive effect, but as to exactly what effect that is…” the man shrugged. “I guess we’ll know by the …response, but either way, they won’t be able to ignore it.”  
“And even though they have demonstrated they can control our systems…?”  
Geordi’s cybernetic eyes gleamed. “No problem, sir. Just like ensign Bates did, it’s a simple as directing our port running light and ramping it up a little. They’d have no reason to think to turn them off. Why would they?”  
Will’s smile was grim as he turned to take his seat and issue the necessary orders. However he was stopped in his tracks as Beverly exited the turbolift. Her face was unreadable, but her eyes clearly showed her distress.  
“I need to talk to the aliens. Now, Will, the captain’s life is in the balance.”

 

The atmosphere in the observation lounge was very tense. Seated around the table were Will, Beverly, Geordi, counsellor Adams and acting chief security officer, lieutenant commander Owen Gables. Sitting in Jean-Luc’s customary place at the head of the long table, Will sat back, but his pose was far from relaxed. His urge to get up and pace was almost impossible to suppress, so by way of forcing his body to obey him, he deliberately adopted an informal demeanour.  
Once everyone had sat he turned his focus to Beverly. “Report, Doctor.”  
Placing her hands palm down on the tabletop, Beverly’s jaw clenched. “Long story short, I don’t know what’s wrong with Captain Picard. He’s in a state of unconsciousness I’ve never seen before. It’s heavier than sleep, but not as deep as a coma, yet it isn’t a true form of unconsciousness.”  
Beverly’s eyes drifted down to her hands to find she’d dragged them into tightly balled fists.  
“Our scans show some neural activity we can’t explain. Somewhere, deep in his prefrontal cortex…” She sighed and lifted one hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. “Look as unscientific as it sounds, all I can tell you is that something’s going on in there and we have absolutely no idea what it is.”  
Patrick Adams sat forward, placing his forearms on the table and lacing his fingers. “The prefrontal cortex? Interesting. That involves cognitive functions and determines personality. While you were on the planet, did Captain Picard exhibit any anomalous behaviours? Did he perhaps act in a way that gave you any cause to suspect he was experiencing some disruption in the function of his brain?”  
Gritting her teeth, Beverly was about to snap a biting remark when Will cut her off, saying succinctly, “Doctor Crusher has not yet had the opportunity to file her report. Until she does, let’s just concentrate on what she tells us. I’m sure she’ll give us all the pertinent details.” His meaningful look wasn’t lost on Beverly and she sent him a brief glance of gratitude. Adams saw the byplay and filed it away for later examination.  
Will shifted slightly in his chair, the only outward sign of his need to move.  
“Is there anything else, Doctor? You stated that captain Picard’s life was in danger.”  
Shaking her head, Beverly’s lips thinned. “Not in danger, per se, what I said was his life was in the balance.”  
“Okay,” conceded Will. “Would you care to elaborate?”  
“As well as the anomalous readings from his prefrontal cortex, I’m not convinced his left parietal lobe is functioning correctly either.”  
Before Will or anyone else could say anything, Beverly held up her hand. “I can’t give you anything definitive. It’s…all I can tell you is that while we were on the planet, the captain underwent a procedure. Afterwards, he was in the main, well, but he was in an altered psychological state. He had yet to emerge from that state when he was brought back on board. However, while on the planet after the procedure, almost exclusively, he would only speak in French.”  
The gathered personnel looked at each other, frowning. Counsellor Adams said quietly, “A default mechanism? He is French isn’t he?”  
“Yes, “ Beverly said, trying to be patient. “But Captain Picard rarely uses his native language. He’s been teaching me for years, but only very informally, mostly just as a form of amusement. He’s spoken little but standard since his late teens.”  
“But…” said a thoughtful Adams. “He is fluent in several languages. I’ve read his file, Doctor; he’s even fluent in some of Earth ancient languages, such as Ancient Greek and Latin.”  
Will could see that Beverly was rapidly losing patience with the counsellor. To circumvent any unpleasantness, he turned his attention to Beverly and asked, “Are you aware we’ve been hailing the planet for hours with no response?”  
Shaking her head, Beverly shrugged. “No. I’ve been so absorbed with Jean-Lu…Captain Picard…I wasn’t aware of anything else.”  
Will sent a look at Geordi and he sighed. “They’ve been completely ignoring us, doc. We’ve done everything except throw rocks.”  
“So what are we going to do?” asked an increasingly alarmed and suspicious Beverly. It was Will who answered.  
“Well we tried to leave, but…”  
Beverly was on her feet so fast her chair scooted backwards with such force it hit the viewport and upended. “NO!” She shouted.  
Her outburst had startled everyone causing a stunned silence. Will’s quietly worded, “Why?” Made Beverly swallow and use the time it took to right her chair and regain her seat to compose herself. “Because...” Her voice broke and she took a few deep breaths before she could continue. “Because it’s now my belief we need the aliens. We need their medical expertise.”  
Deciding now was the time to tell the staff about the existence of the captain’s identical twin and how that came to be took some time, but Beverly got through it somehow. Geordi’s softly spoken, “Holy shit!” caused Beverly to snort.  
“Oh, yes, that’s one way to put it.” She said dryly. “So you can see it’s not as simple as just asking for help.” She sighed and again put her hands on the tabletop. “Look, this is pure speculation on my part, but I can’t shake the feeling that the captain’s twin might be suffering whatever it is that’s affecting the captain. And if that’s true, then maybe they’ll help us.”  
Will crossed his legs, resting his ankle on his knee and gripping it so tightly his knuckles showed white. Patrick Adams watched all this, making mental notes.  
“Well, Doctor, it seems we’re not going anywhere anyway.” To Beverly’s raised eyebrows, Will swept a hand. “They’ve taken control of the helm. We can’t move.”  
“Oh.”  
“Yeah,” Will said sardonically and nodding thoughtfully. “Yeah, oh. But we’ve got a little plan…something that just might make then sit up and take notice.”  
Beverly’s eyes narrowed. “Surely you know there’s nothing we can do? If they want to keep us here, we can’t stop them.”  
Pulling down the corners of his mouth, Will inclined his head in agreement. “True, but that doesn’t mean we have to sit here and just take it. I don’t know about you, Beverly, but if someone wants to shaft me, they can show some courtesy and ask me first!”  
Taking a deep breath, Beverly said quietly, “What are you going to do?”  
Will’s grin was wolfish. “Not much. Just fool around with some infra red light, that’s all.”  
With her knowledge of the essence, Beverly knew instantly what Will was referring to. Shaking her head vigorously, Beverly speared Will with a pleading look. “No, Will, don’t do it!”  
Unable to contain himself any longer, the big man shot out of his chair and began to prowl around the table. “Why the hell not? Those bastards have had us by the short and curlies from the moment we arrived! In fact, my bet is this entire mission was a setup. They lured us here and have been lying to us ever since to keep us here! Identical twin my ass! He’s a clone and you and I fell head first into their trap.”  
“No Will, you’re wrong.” It was an effort for Beverly to keep her tone soft.  
The big man sneered. “So now you’re defending them while your husband lies in sick bay with his brains scrambled?”  
“I’m not defending them Will, all I’m saying is that no matter what you do, you won’t win. All you’ll do is endanger Jean-Luc’s life.” She lifted a stricken face and said softly, “Are you prepared to do that, Will?”  
He came to stand behind her chair, bent and placed one large hand on the table. With his head near hers he said quietly, “This ship has over seven hundred people on board, Beverly and in the absence of the captain, they’re all my responsibility. Are you implying the captain is worth more than the entire ship’s crew?”  
“No, I’m not.” Said Beverly, barely keeping control. “But can’t you see, Will? You won’t win this battle. It’s pointless to even try.”  
Will straightened and went back to the head of the table, gripping the back of his chair. “It’s not the battle I’m interested in winning, Beverly. It’s the war. Dismissed.”  
As everyone began to file out, Beverly stayed in her seat, head cradled in her hands and she quietly wept.

 

“I can see only one alternative.” The male healer looked down at the device in his hand, then directed his gaze at the conscience, his body encased in the brilliant light of the essence.  
“Yes, I agree.” His colleague allowed. She tilted her head and sighed. “You are aware of their plans?”  
The male sighed too, lowering his glowing head. “Yes. It was inevitable, I suppose, but disappointing nonetheless.”  
Inclining her head, the female acknowledged the remark. “I had hoped Riker would be more like the conscience’s brother. He is far more evolved.”  
“Evolved?” the male shook his head. “I do not think it is a matter of evolution, more a simple difference in personality. One only has to access the archives to see that humans, even the more…enlightened ones have very disparate personalities.”  
“But so different?” Insisted the female. “Riker is overtly aggressive! The conscience’s brother is…”  
“…like the conscience?” The gentle admonishment made the female glow vividly.  
“I admit I have made a basic error in making a gross generalisation. Of course humans are just as diverse as individuals as we are. But the question remains. What do we do about Riker and what he proposes?”  
The male tilted his head and sighed. “Obviously he cannot be permitted to carry out his plans; the essence must not be violated. No doubt our strategists will consult with us, but I feel we have but one alternative.”  
“He must be brought here.”  
“Yes.” The male demurred. “The conscience’s brother must be brought to him. The connection must be restored if we have any chance of separating them.”  
“And his one? The healer? Should we bring her too?”  
The male shrugged; an oddly human gesture. “I cannot see how we can avoid it. The conscience’s one has been very beneficial in keeping him calm, even in his altered state. It is possible his brother’s one can do the same for him.”  
“Agreed, but Riker is not going to accept this. It is most likely he will become even more irrational and belligerent.”  
“True, but I feel our strategists will be able to make it perfectly clear to him, without any hint of injury to any individual or damage to their ship, that resistance or even protest is pointless.”  
The female lifted her hands higher, indicating a more fervent tone. “But surely even that will cause Riker to react. It seems that his irrational and belligerent behaviour increases the more helpless he feels.”  
“Sadly, you are correct, but we cannot be held responsible for his irrational behaviour. All we can do is render him, and by extension his ship, harmless.”  
The female snorted, a soft, somehow sibilant sound. “Harmless? They were never considered capable of doing us any harm.”  
“I was thinking more of them themselves. Who is to say what lengths Riker would go to defend…or retrieve his…friends?” He sighed. “It matters not. Our strategists can negate or nullify anything he tries. It is a pity though. We requested their presence and their help and they came and gave it willingly. I find the current situation…distasteful.”  
“Yes,” agreed the female. “And then there is the conscience’s brother’s continuing…difficulty…with the procurement.” She sighed. “Although I commend their sentiment…their….Prime Directive…it has its merits, but to attempt to apply it to us…to even have the temerity to think we would accede…I cannot help but feel insulted by their conceit.”  
“Indeed. There is much to regret about this entire episode.” The male sighed, lifting a glowing hand to rub his flat nose. “All we can hope for is to resolve this in such a way as ensure no one is harmed or left adversely affected by their experiences with us.”  
“And that we retain our autonomy…and our privacy.”  
The male nodded his agreement and a small hiatus ensued, their hands falling to their sides. When the female again lifted her hands, the male inclined his head, his eyes fixed on her fingers.  
“I must admit, though, I am disappointed with the knowledge the humans, indeed the entire Federation may be left with the opinion we have been…and still are, acting in what they consider an immoral way or at the very least, in violation of their laws.”  
“Perhaps,” demurred the male. “But ultimately it is irrelevant. There is nothing they can do to stop us.”  
“Agreed, but from what we know of them…humans in particular…they can be very persistent if they believe they have been wronged. Riker said as much himself.”  
“Still irrelevant.” The male looked briefly at a device then returned his attention to his companion. “It matters not. Once the transcendence takes place, any concerns the humans or the Federation have will be moot.”  
“And in the interim?”  
The male shrugged. “Irrelevant.”  
The female responded to a gently strobing light and nodded. “I am going to reduce the essence. The conscience would benefit from being with his one for a short time.  
“Agreed.”

 

As the officers filed out of the observation lounge, Patrick Adams hung back, staying just inside. The doors swished shut, leaving him alone with Beverly, although she was unaware of his presence. He moved quietly back to the table and just as quietly took a seat opposite the weeping woman.   
“Would you like to talk about it?” he asked softly. Startled, Beverly’s head snapped up and immediately anger spiked. Rising quickly to her feet, she glared down at the man. “No, I would not.” She said coldly.  
He shrugged; beads of sweat on his brow. Despite her anger, Beverly’s medical brain kicked in, cataloguing this information for further analysis later. “It might help, Doctor.” He said mildly. “You’re under an enormous amount of stress right now and added to what you and the captain have been going through these past months…” he shrugged again, lifting his hands, palm upwards.  
Curbing her irritation and anger, Beverly managed a cool smile. “While I appreciate your offer, counsellor, I don’t need any assistance right now, but thank you.”  
“It’s not going to get any easier, Beverly.” His use of her given name only served to increase her anger, but she knew he was only trying to do his job. The cool, fixed smile stayed, but her eyes glittered dangerously. “Look, Counsellor…Patrick…” the smile grew in size but not in warmth. “I really don’t have the time. Right now I have to devote every gram of my energy and thought to Captain Picard.” Adams opened his mouth to protest, but Beverly held up a hand and shook her head. “No. I’m sorry, but that’s the way it is. But…as we told you previously, once the dust’s settled, then yes, we’ll come to you for joint counselling.”  
She was on the way to the other doors when Patrick’s soft words made her falter slightly before regaining her resolve.  
“Very well, Beverly. Just so you know…I’ll be here to pick up the pieces when the inevitable happens.”  
He sat still for a moment or two, staring at the closed doors. Sighing, he wiped his wet brow and hoisted his body to his feet. As he went to exit through the same set of doors, he thought, yet again, “I really must lose some weight.”

 

Will cast his eyes around the bridge, noting everyone was ready. After a measured look at Geordi, he nodded once, curtly. “Do it!”  
Turning to the engineering console, Geordi’s hands went to input the commands to send the focused shaft of infra red light into the dish on the planet’s surface when the console abruptly went dark. Then, one-by-one every console on the bridge went out. Stepping back from his station, his hands still at waist height Geordi muttered, “What the hell?”  
Will didn’t have to be told. He clenched his fists and bowed his head, screwing his eyes closed in impotent fury. “Fuck you!” he thought vehemently. It took several long minutes, the bridge now completely silent with the cessation of the usual soft background noises, before Will lifted his head to address the waiting crew. “Get to work! Find a way to get back control of the damned ship!”  
No one said a word, not even to acknowledge the orders. It simply wasn’t appropriate and in Will’s present mood, no one dared draw attention to themselves.  
The sounding of the red alert both shocked and startled the already rattled crew Out of sheer habit, Will whirled to face tactical. Powers lifted her hands helplessly, shaking her head.  
“I don’t know, Commander!”  
Closing his eyes again, Will tried to take a deep breath, tried to calm down, but it was too much. Lifting fisted hands he shouted, “Fucking bastards!”   
It took two tense minutes before Will was able to say with some control, “Computer, reason for red alert?”  
There was no reply. His expression glowering, Will said curtly to Owen Gables. “Lieutenant, get some teams together. I think you’ll find it’s the captain’s been taken, but after checking sick bay, do a physical check, count heads.”  
“Yes, sir.”  
The lieutenant went to the lift doors but they didn’t open. Sighing with anger and frustration, Will stabbed a finger in the direction of the Jefferies tube hatch on the opposite side of the bridge. Silently Gables nodded and soon disappeared into the bowels of the ship.

 

One second Beverly had been striding briskly through the ship, on her way back to sick bay, next she was staggering as she found herself on the planet and back in the room where Jean-Luc had undergone his recovery. She spun around, her balance precarious. Seeing Jean-Luc, lying naked on the bed, she began to go to him, then halted, her heart accelerating as she saw, next to him on another bed, was his twin, also lying naked, his one by his side.   
Her need to be with her husband overrode her caution and she went boldly to the bed, lifting her chin and staring defiantly at the softly glowing female. Although she couldn’t see the being’s eyes, Beverly felt sure they were locked on hers, each taking the measure of the other.  
A gentle hand on her shoulder made her know her attention was required elsewhere, but she’d be damned if she was going to back down. Foolish and immature as it was, somehow; deep inside Beverly, she knew instinctively just how important it was to win this minor battle of wills. She was immensely gratified when the female lowered her head, but the resulting radiance made Beverly screw her eyes shut and cover her face with her hands. Stalemate.  
The hand on her shoulder remained and it was only when she felt a gentle squeeze that she risked opening her eyes. A screen was offered and she read, “No doubt you are aware of the anomalous readings in the brain of your one. The conscience is suffering the same condition.”  
“What is it?” asked Beverly urgently.  
“We do not know. We have not encountered anything like this before. Our knowledge of the human brain is extensive, but we cannot offer any explanation as to why these readings exist.”  
The healer, its gender unknown to Beverly looked down at the captain, then after offering a small bow, passed a small device over and around Jean-Luc’s head. Beverly watched stoically, knowing she was out of her depth. If anyone could help the two men, it was the aliens.  
“We are correct. The readings are identical.”  
It turned to Beverly and tilted its head, its raised hands drawing her eyes back to the screen.  
“Tell us more about the phenomena you described to the conscience.”  
“You mean the twin thing?”  
That seemed to confuse the being, so Beverly qualified.  
“Sorry, I take it you’re referring to the unexplained abilities sometimes exhibited by identical twins?”  
“Yes. Can you tell us more?”  
Sighing, Beverly frowned, chewing the inside of her cheek. “Well, I can’t tell you all that much, ‘cause I simply don’t know….in fact human medical science doesn’t understand it, despite centuries of study. We know things happen, but not all identical twins, triplets or more exhibit it.”  
That seemed to make the alien healer think. In the ensuing hiatus, Beverly gently laid her hand on Jean-Luc’s brow. What she felt made her frown. “He’s hot.”  
She saw the healer’s hands rise. “Yes, both the conscience and his brother have an elevated body temperature. We do not know why, but as it seems to be doing no harm, we have not, as yet, done anything to restore their normal body temperature.”  
“I take it you’ve thoroughly checked the hypothalamus? It is responsible for regulating body temperature.”  
“Yes.”  
Again there was a hiatus, but as soon as Beverly saw the hands rise again, she directed her gaze to the small screen. “What can you tell us about the…twin thing?”  
Shrugging, Beverly pulled her mouth to one side. “Okay, well, we know that some sets of identical siblings, usually twins, but as I said, other birth multiples have exhibited these…phenomena …there’s been well-documented cases of identical siblings having almost telepathic abilities. Sometimes they feel each other’s pain, in other instances, one will speak…begin a sentence, only to have the other…or others finish it. And I suppose the most remarkable are documented cases of twins and I should point out that this has occurred in non-identical twins as well…having been separated at birth, they were nevertheless aware of the existence of each other. Not in a conscious way, but at the sub conscious level and it was often a factor in the twins reuniting as adults.”  
Her eyes on the screen, Beverly read, “Were these individuals separated by any great distance?”  
“Sometimes yes, at least as far as being confined to our planet. But although it was most commonly seen where the children who grew to adulthood were in the same country, there are cases where the children had been separated by continents, sometimes thousands and thousands of kilometres apart, in different countries and cultures.”  
“So…they would have completely disparate lives.”  
“Uh huh.” Nodded Beverly. “Depending on the country, the language, diet, in the past even a different religion.”  
“This is most intriguing. You stated earlier that on discovering the…connection…between the conscience and his brother you thought perhaps it was not evident at first because the conscience had been removed in an undeveloped state. If that is the case, why then would the…connection…intensify once we had removed the nanite infestation?”  
“I don’t know.” said a frustrated Beverly. “I have been thinking about it of course…are you aware of engrams?”  
“Engrams?”  
“Yes.” nodded Beverly. “They’re a type of memory. What do you know about memory in humans?”  
The being tilted its head. “We know that memory in the human brain is created and encoded chemically and retrieved electrically.”  
“Narrowing her eyes, Beverly asked, “That’s it? That’s all you know?”  
“Yes. What else is there to know?”  
Rubbing the tip of her nose, Beverly ordered her thoughts. “Okay, memory in humans. What you said is true, but that was a grossly simplistic description. The areas of the human brain responsible for memory are the cerebellum, the striatum, the cerebral cortex, the hippocampus and the amygdala. The reason so many areas of the brain are involved is because different memories are stored in different ways. It depends on how the memory derived. Was it tactile? Sensory? Visual? Was the memory gained by an experience? An event? But engrams differ because they’re memories we’ve carried as an evolving species. Think of them as evolutionary holdovers. They exist in the LIP…the lateral interpositus nucleus, which is within the cerebellum. Engrams are our automatic responses. I can’t be more specific than that as the effect of engrams differs from person to person. Some people will, in some circumstances, exhibit atavistic behaviour that can be directly attributed to an engram, where someone else in the same circumstance may show nothing or a completely different behaviour.” She sighed and shrugged. “It is most certainly governed by genetics. I suppose if your parents both have a strong engram presence in their brains, it stands to reason their children will carry the same trait and the opposite is also true as is any mixture…or intensity.”  
“We will scan your one. We will see if we can establish if he still has his…engrams.”  
“And if he doesn’t?” asked a sickened Beverly. “Can you do anything to replace them?” She asked hopefully.  
“We do not know. Allow us to carry out our scans.”  
It wasn’t as if Beverly had any choice. As she watched the healer retreat into the booth, she knew the conscience’s one was watching her.  
It was only a few minutes before Beverly noticed the screen in her hand was glowing. She lifted it and the glow vanished to reveal text. “Join us please, Beverly.”  
As Beverly crossed the room she felt the female’s eyes on her, but she studiously ignored her. Once inside the booth, she was gently ushered to a floating, life-size hologram of Jean-Luc’s brain. Several areas were highlighted. Gesturing to the image, the nearest healer directed her eyes to the text under the hologram. She read. “Are these the correct areas you spoke of?”  
“Yes.” agreed Beverly. She then pointed, saying absently, “Can you separate these areas and enlarge?”  
Instead of answering by text, the image simply changed to conform to her request. Text appeared under the hologram again. “All you have to do is ask for what you need to see, Beverly. Our system will provide all you wish.”  
Sending a quick glance of thanks to the healer, Beverly said tentatively, “Show me the lateral interpositus nucleus within the cerebellum, enlarge again and highlight.”  
The image changed instantly and Beverly found herself leaning forward. She didn’t see the healer use his hands in the air to adjust the image. The specific area was now an object a metre in diameter.  
“Okay…now identify the engrams. I want you to enlarge any concentration and highlight.”  
“What exactly are we to look for? How do we identify these…engrams?”  
“Oh…sorry.” said Beverly apologetically. “Pyramidal cells. It’s the neurons inside that have a very specific and unique connectivity. It should show quite clearly as being very different from normal neurological neurons.”  
The new image made Beverly’s eyes close briefly with relief. “There they are! He still has them.”  
Peering at the bright cluster that now took up a tabletop size of area in front of her, Beverly said distractedly, without talking her eyes off the hologram, “This, of course, isn’t how the engrams would appear in the brain, I’ve just asked for this representation to make it easier for us to see them.”  
Text scrolled under the image. “It is an enormous number. Is that considered normal?”  
Beverly smile was indulgent. “Ah, the complexities of the human brain. You can’t think of engrams as single entities, although they are, being basically a type of neuron, but like all neurons in the brain, they’re interconnected. They may number from 30,000 to 100,000 or more, but it’s their connectivity that makes them so unique. The pyramidal cell structure assists the synapses but it’s the association of the required atavistic memory that makes the engram neuron activate. Of all those engrams, at any given instance, only a very small percentage may be required at any given time. Indeed, it’s possible an individual could live their entire lives never having activated a single engram.”  
“From what you can see, are these engrams…normal?”  
Beverly shrugged. “I don’t know. Unless they’re activated, I wouldn’t know and even then, I’d be hard pressed to know the difference as it’s exhibited behaviour that’s noted, not any change in the engrams themselves.”  
“Wait.”  
The hologram winked out of existence, then just as suddenly reappeared. Beverly frowned, not understanding what was happening. Then her penny dropped.  
“This is Jean-Luc’s brother’s brain, isn’t it?”  
“Yes. This is the conscience’s engrams. As you can see…”  
The hologram changed again and now the two areas of engrams were displayed side-by-side. “They, like the brothers themselves, are identical.”  
“No surprise there.” Beverly muttered sardonically.  
“Yes, but can you discern if there has been any…alteration? Any disruption?”  
Chewing again on the inside of her cheek, Beverly thought hard. Eventually she sighed and tilted her head. “Well,” she said cautiously, “I did do a level four neurological scan on the captain many years ago, looking for any evidence of a neurological disease and at that time, apart from find a slight defect in the parietal lobe, I can’t say I recall noting any anomalous readings of the LIP.”  
“If we could see the results of those scans would it be of some assistance?”  
“Yes.” Beverly said, nodding eagerly. “I could compare them and with your technology, easily see any changes. Especially as I have these images of the twin’s brain as well.”  
Somehow Beverly expected to wait, but the scans she’d taken years ago appeared as holograms before her. Shocked, she stammered…“How…?”  
But there was no reply to her question. Text began to scroll. “Can you see any difference, Beverly?”  
Gathering her shattered composure, the doctor spent several long moments comparing, asking for several magnified views of all three holograms. Sighing, she stepped back and gestured to the images.  
“As far as I can see, I can’t detect any changes. But I’d like to do a chemical analysis. Bearing in mind that engrams aren’t encoded chemically, they’re already present at birth, I still want to know if their basic chemical makeup is not only unchanged, but stable. I can use the captain’s old scan as my yardstick.”   
“Yardstick?”  
Rolling her hand, her eyes still on the three holograms, Beverly muttered, “Base comparison.”  
The asked-for analysis suddenly appeared, but Beverly frowned with incomprehension. “What is that?”  
“It is the chemical analysis you requested.”  
“No it’s not.” said an increasingly alarmed Beverly. “I don’t recognise any of that! What are those chemicals?”

“They are the normal chemicals one would find within a human brain.”  
“No they’re not!” Beverly had to stop herself from shouting. Calming down, she took a deep breath and asked, “What are you using as your source?”  
The healers all looked at each other, their hands raised. Beverly waited impatiently until text appeared.  
“The conscience has always possessed these chemicals in the brain.”  
Narrowing her eyes, Beverly asked quietly, “All consciences…or just human ones?”  
“All.”  
Lifting her hand to nibble at her thumbnail, Beverly tried to fit this new information into what she knew of the aliens’ history. She came up empty. Sighing with frustration, she asked, “Is there anything you do, either during gestation or…maybe as soon as a new conscience has been…procured…to help them adapt?”  
“Adapt to what?”  
“I don’t know!” Beverly snapped. “Life here…among your people…or this planet.”  
“The conscience has little direct contact with the people, Beverly. Only those chosen to serve as his one, family or staff have any contact with him.”  
Suspicion rose, causing Beverly to fold her arms. “Okay, what about the planet? I know this…” she waved her hand to encompass the complex. “…is suitable for humans and obviously those of you who live here too….but what about outside? What are your cities like? Are they enclosed too? Is there something in what little atmosphere this planet has that’s dangerous? I know the conscience has often ventured outside. Was he altered in some way?” A new, very unsettling thought occurred and Beverly stared at the holograms with dawning dread. “Have you altered Jean-Luc and me too?”  
The stillness and silence of the booth was ominous in its own way. With growing alarm, Beverly said quietly, “What have you done?”  
When the text finally began to scroll, Beverly wasn’t at all sure she wanted to read it.  
“It was necessary.”  
“To do what?”  
“There is, in the air you breathe, a suppressant, a chemical that inures you to the more…deleterious effects of the pervading atmosphere. You are quite correct, Beverly. There is something harmful. It is to do with the essence. Where the conscience has always been protected, we who serve with him have had the opposite done to us. We have been exposed. It is not possible for us to live in this environment and breathe the same air without serious consequences. Unfortunately, as our physical selves have reached a point where we can no longer adapt, we who serve have, in effect, given our lives for our chosen paths. To serve is to die.”  
“My God…is there nothing you can do? Surely, after all this time…”  
“So few are affected, Beverly, it was hardly worth it. In any case, our conclusion will assist the people. We do not regret or rail against our decision. It was taken with full knowledge of the consequences.”  
Looking back at the holograms, Beverly asked worriedly, “So, can you remove the chemical or not?”  
“To do so would place all of you in great danger, Beverly.”  
“Yes, but with this…” she pointed at the highlighted areas. “…our brains won’t function as they should. I know I’ve not exhibited any adverse reactions, but if my engrams have been effectively turned off, who’s to say in the future a situation may arise when the lack of engram activity costs me my life?! Or my husband’s! You can’t leave us like this!”  
“But, Beverly…is it the dormant state of the engrams that is responsible for the condition of the conscience and his brother?”  
Throwing her hands up in angry frustration, Beverly shouted, “I don’t know!”  
“Then why do we not attempt to bring the engrams out of their dormant state and see if that improves the conscience and his brother’s condition?”  
“Oh, that’s just fine and dandy,” snapped Beverly sarcastically, “but what about the rest? Are you going to restore the natural chemical balance in Jean-Luc’s and my brain?” Another thought struck her. “And Commander Riker?”  
“When your time with us is at its end, we will do what we can, for all of you, but we must caution you…we have not had to do this before.”  
“What’re you saying?”  
“We cannot predict what might happen.”  
“Great…oh, that’s just great.” Beverly really wanted to sit down, but she’d had enough. Turning abruptly she left the booth and went to her husband, picking up his hand and holding it to her cheek.

 

Their eyes opened at precisely the same time. Beverly stood on one side of the bed, a healer on the other. Next to Jean-Luc’s bed, only a metre or so away, the same thing was happening with the female and a healer. Both naked men stared sightlessly up at the ceiling and oddly, blinked at the same time and in the same pattern. Both healers, one with the captain, the other with the conscience, passed a hand holding a small device around the heads of the men and Beverly gasped softly as a hologram appeared above Jean-Luc’s head. Glancing over, she saw the same thing over the twin’s head.  
With some gestures of their hands in unison, the healers enlarged the holograms and all of the brain was eliminated except the areas of engrams. As before each area was highlighted.  
As Beverly watched a small capsule was introduced into the right nostril of each man. At first, nothing happened, then suddenly, as one, both twins began to shake. Beverly laid her hand on Jean-Luc’s bare chest, over his heart only to find it was beating incredible fast. Her head snapped up, her voice loud, curt and crisp. “If you don’t slow down the rate of cardiac activity, the conscience will suffer a cardiac arrest! Jean-Luc’s heart will withstand the overload, but the rest of his cardio-vascular system won’t.”  
“We know.”  
Nothing happened. With growing frustration and alarm, Beverly shouted, “Stop it! Whatever it is you’re doing, stop!”  
“We cannot, the procedure is in progress. To stop it before it has completed would put the conscience and his brother in grave danger.”  
“But they’re already in grave danger!” Beverly yelled helplessly, her eyes going from her husband’s shuddering, naked body to that of his twin. Unlike Beverly, who kept her hand on Jeran-Luc, the female had bent so that her glowing head was almost touching her one’s.   
Beverly started when gentle hands eased an eye shield into her free hand. She shook her head irritatedly, waving the being away, but she found she couldn’t refuse. As she watched another healer put a shield on Jean-Luc’s eyes. Beverly had choice but to comply. The last thing she saw before everything went black was the female putting a shield on the conscience’s eyes.  
Beverly put her other hand on Jean-Luc, this one on his cheek. Stubble pricked her palm and as she kept in physical contact with him, she felt the shuddering become increasingly violent.  
“What’s happening?” she called out, but she received nothing by way of reply. Under the hand on his chest, Beverly felt his heart accelerate and she knew his body simply couldn’t withstand it. “Stop!” she yelled desperately. “Please…for God’s sake…stop it! You’ll kill him!”  
When Jean-Luc’s heart abruptly stopped beating, Beverly was so shocked all she could say was, “No….” so softly, no one heard. Under her hands his now utterly still body began to rapidly cool. It wasn’t until mere minutes later, when she began to shiver that she realised the temperature of the entire room was plummeting quickly.   
When hands tried to usher her away from Jean-Luc’s body, she resisted, twisting violently from side-to side, trying to dislodge the gentle, but firm hands. Eventually too many hands overwhelmed her and she was all but dragged away. She sensed she was in a smaller space and surmised she’d been taken to the booth. The same gentle urging had her sink into a seat of some kind. Blind, frantic and on the verge of panic, all Beverly could do was sit and shiver more and more violently as the temperature continued to free fall.  
In her sensory-deprived world it was difficult to accurately gauge the passage of time, but Beverly felt not long had passed before her body stopped shivering. She registered it was now extremely cold, but it wasn’t until she developed a sudden, overwhelming urge to sleep that she understood she was suffering from hypothermia. Sluggishly, she tried to force her mind to work, but, like her body, it was in the process of closing down.  
Behind the implacably black eye shield, her eyes slowly closed, even as the last vestiges of her conscious mind screamed in frustration and desperation, “NO! Stay awake! If you go to sleep, you won’t wake up!”  
It was no use. She slipped into sleep, never seeing her decreasing breaths clouding thickly around her head.

 

Will had finally given up. He’d been angry for so long, the frustration and anguish had built to a point where he simply couldn’t sustain it any longer.  
With the ship sitting practically dead in space, Will had come to accept there was nothing anyone could do. So, although he’d ordered all strategic stations manned, the rest of the crew was ordered to off duty status. Having given the orders he felt strangely tranquil.  
In his quarters, Will had allowed himself the luxury of a long hot shower, he’d trimmed his beard, eaten a decent meal then, after feeding and changing Charlotte and watching her kick on her mat for half an hour, he’d taken his daughter and crawled gratefully into bed, sleeping solidly for seven hours.   
Charlotte’s growing complaints drew him from his slumber and he smiled, his eyes still closed as his hand felt and found his little girl safe beside him. At his touch, she settled momentarily, but soon her insistent grizzling drew a soft protest from Will as he exited the bed with the baby in his arms.   
Managing to empty his very full bladder one-handed, he washed that hand then changed the baby before wandering into the living area, pausing by his bedroom mirror on the way out and snorting at the reflected image.  
“Not the epitome of a Starfleet commander, Charlotte.” He chuckled quietly. Dressed only in a pair of ill-fitting shorts, his dark hair was askew, his eyes bleary, despite his good sleep. Yawning expansively, he knuckled his eye with his free hand as he stood in front of the replicator.  
Armed with a warm bottle, he settled into the sofa and spent a contented twenty minutes feeding his daughter. It wasn’t until she’d been burped and was lying on her mat that Will called the bridge.  
“Anything to report?”  
“No, sir.” Said the officer of the watch. “Everything’s just the same, Commander, no change.”  
Instead of the rush of anger and furious frustration those words would’ve caused only several hours before, a now calm Will sighed and said quietly, “Thank you, bridge. Any change, let me know immediately. Riker out.”  
Looking down at Charlotte he couldn’t help but grin. “Well little girl, you have the entire ship to play in. Until we’re up and running again, your daddy is at your disposal.”  
He stood, stretched his large frame and wandered back to the replicator, getting something to eat. Momentarily confused, he asked, “Computer, what is the time?”  
Of course there was no reply so he just shrugged and said aloud…“Feels like breakfast time.”  
With that thought in mind, he ordered scrambled eggs on toast and a mug of coffee, indulging himself with milk and sugar instead of his usual black, no sweetener.   
Having eaten he showered again, dressed in a clean uniform and combed his hair. Thus prepared, he went and picked Charlotte up and exited his quarters, looking down at the baby to say, “I think you’ll enjoy engineering. Lots of pretty lights.”

 

The softly diffused light Beverly perceived through her eyelids reminded her of dawn on Caldos…that and the distinct chill in the air. Sighing, she turned her head, flaring her nostrils, trying to pick up the aroma of porridge she knew her nanna would be making.   
With an anticipatory smile, she rolled over and abruptly fell approximately half a metre onto a cold, hard surface. Brutally wrenched from her dream, Beverly yelped in surprise and scrabbled to her feet, completely disoriented. Her eyes darting to and fro, it took a few panicked seconds for her to remember where she was. She shot out of the booth, ignoring the healers, her heart in her mouth.  
What she saw brought her to an abrupt halt. Sitting on the side of one bed, close and side-by-side, Jean-Luc and his twin, both still naked, had their hands one on top of the other beside them. The female held the conscience’s free hand and as Beverly slowly approached, Jean-Luc, who didn’t take his gaze from his brother’s face, who was also staring at him the same way, held out his hand in a silent invitation for Beverly to take it. This she did, but then stood, confused and frightened.  
“Jean-Luc?” she said gently.  
He didn’t react in any way. She tried again. “Jean-Luc…it’s me…Beverly. Can you hear me?”  
Other than holding her hand, he gave no indication that he registered her presence. The twins kept their eyes locked on each other. Switching to French she said carefully, “Jean-Luc, c′est votre épouse, Beverly. Etes-vous d′accord? Pouvez-vous m′entendre?”  
He was no more responsive to his native tongue than standard. She fretted, thinking…“I told him I was his wife; I asked if he was all right and if he could hear me and I got nothing, not in French and not in standard. What the hell’s going on?”  
As Beverly tried to figure out what was happening, the glow of the female made her turn to look at her. Beverly, on seeing the female offering her hand became suspicious. “What do you want?” she asked warily.   
Watching in the booth, one of the healers lifted her hands and said, “Should we instruct her?”  
“No.” said the male. “She has the intelligence to solve the puzzle presented to her.”  
“Are you sure?” the female gestured. “I am not so confident.”  
“We must allow her to make her own choices. Be patient and wait. We will soon see. If she fails, we will instruct her.”  
Beverly’s eyes left the female’s offered hand and took in the tableau. Each person was linked; the only gap was between her and the female. “A circuit?” thought Beverly. “Is that what this is about? Am I supposed to…complete the circle? Am I the missing part?”  
Tentatively, Beverly lifted her hand and allowed the female to wrap her extraordinary long, slender fingers around hers. Beverly didn’t register the chill of the female’s flesh because as soon as their hands touched she felt a heavy jolt right between her eyes. Her head snapped up, her eyes wide. The three humans were all the same, each head raised; eyes and mouths wide open. The alien female glowed brightly, but not so vividly as to damage the human’s eyes.  
Struck mute, Beverly saw memories. Some were hers, some she knew to be Jean-Luc’s, but there were others. There was no seeming chronological order to any of it, nor was there any order to the rapid, unceasing parade of images. It was a stream of fragments…a mélange of experiences some familiar, most not. But it wasn’t just visual. With each fragment came tastes, smells…sounds. In the silence of the room, the four beings experienced every moment of each other’s lives, from birth to the present.

 

The strange chaos suddenly ceased. Beverly blinked slowly, taking several long seconds to reintegrate into herself. Lowering her head, she saw the twins were still looking at each other, but not with the same blank nothingness, but with awe and…gratitude? Beverly was about to speak, to ask, her hopes rising, if her husband was all right, but she snapped her mouth closed as both men spoke at the same time.  
“I’m not you any more, I’m just me.” Jean-Luc said softly, a small smile on his face. At the same time his brother had said with the same softness of voice,  
“I have regained myself. We are separate, Jean-Luc.”  
“Yes, separate,” there was a gentleness, an intimacy in Jean-Luc’s voice Beverly had only ever heard him use with her and only then in privacy. “…but not.”  
“Yes,” agreed the twin with the exact same familiarity that Jean-Luc had used. “We are two separate people, Jean-Luc, yet we share everything. In many ways we are still one.”  
His eyes left his brother and settled on his one. “I owe you my apologies my beloved one. I cannot explain why I behaved as I did, but for the sorrow and hurt I caused…I am deeply sorry.”  
The female bent slightly and briefly touched her glowing head to his. They sighed and Beverly and Jean-Luc immediately understood this was a very intimate gesture. A few seconds passed before the conscience lifted his head and set his gaze on Beverly. Although she still found it very unsettling to look into those eyes, so identical to her husband’s, especially in the light of what had occurred, he eased her disquiet with his softly spoken words. “And you, Beverly. I also owe you an apology.” He shook his head, both confused and unable to find the right words. It was Jean-Luc who helped him. “Neither of us was functioning as individuals, Beverly. Somehow we became enmeshed in each other’s minds, but where I was incapable of functioning,” he turned and offered his brother a gentle smile of forgiveness. “…my brother was and he simply acted on what we both felt…for you.” He sighed, lowered his head and shook it sadly. “Had I not been incapacitated, I would’ve behaved the same way towards my brother’s one, acting on his feelings…his love and desire for her.” He looked up and gazed at Beverly, his expression stricken. “I felt it, Beverly.” His voice was rough with emotion and tears glistened as yet unshed. “I wanted her with the same depth of love and passion I feel for you. I’m so sorry.”  
Stepping closer, Beverly wrapped her arms around her husband and held him as he trembled. She didn’t know if it was through emotion or cold, although she suspected the latter.  
As they embraced, Jean-Luc’s head resting on her shoulder, Beverly glanced at his twin to see that he too was being comforted by his one and the thought occurred that the twins may still be connected.  
Several quiet moments passed before the growing light in the room announced the approach of at least one healer. Looking over her shoulder, Beverly saw two. One was offering a small screen. She took it in one hand then wrapped the arm back around Jean-Luc, but held the screen so she could see it.  
“You are correct, Beverly.”  
Frowning, Beverly was about to ask what was being referred to, when more text appeared.  
“The conscience is still connected to his twin.”  
Fear and dread shot through Beverly’s mind and she took her eyes away from the screen, hugging Jean-Luc tighter and closing her eyes. The words now sounded softly in her mind.  
“Yes, Beverly we can hear you, as you can now hear us.” Twisting her head, her eyes wide, Beverly watched as the being spoke to her, its hands stayed at its side.  
“This….effect…will only last until the chemicals in your brain have been removed. But….the connection…between the conscience and his twin will remain as long as they both live.”  
“Will it diminish with distance?” asked Beverly, her mouth dry.  
“No. But with practice, we think both will learn how, with our assistance, to…control the strength of the link, however it will always exist. Now that it has been brought into actuality, it cannot be deactivated.”  
Beverly almost sneered. “You make it sound like some kind of computer program.”  
“In a way it is. If you consider the human brain, indeed most sentient beings’ brains…are they not remarkably sophisticated organic computers capable, even, of being programmed?”  
When Beverly said nothing, the being said, “Your accusations are unfounded, Beverly.”   
Annoyed at hearing her unspoken thoughts aired, Beverly said quietly, but with anger, “All right, seeing as I don’t have the luxury of privacy, if you didn’t do this to them, then how is it that they’re now joined at the damned hip forever?”  
The expression caused both healers to lift their hands and Beverly realised they had the ability to control what she heard from them. It made her irritation grow. Their hands fell to their sides and one of the healers began to glow too brightly. Placing her hand around the back of Jean-Luc’s head, Beverly said quietly, “Keep your head on my shoulder, my love and close your eyes tight.”  
She only just heard him as he replied, “I know, my brother has already warned me.”  
Casting a quick, squinted look at the conscience, she saw his one holding him in much the same way as she was holding Jean-Luc. With the light now too bright, Beverly squeezed her eyes shut, lowered her head and waited.  
The words in her mind helped ease her worry.  
“Forgive my colleague. She is expressing both sadness that you think we are responsible and offence for the same reason. The propensity for what the conscience and his brother now share was always there, Beverly. Indeed, after Jean-Luc’s rescue from the Borg and later, when he began to hear them, the latent ability to connect with his brother was there as well.  
“So the Borg…” thought Beverly, her stomach souring.  
“No. I only use that reference to compare the experience of hearing another in the mind. We feel, given the right circumstances some, if not all of the children born as multiple human births have this ability. But for whatever reason, it never reaches its full potential, only exhibiting itself as the twin phenomena you and your husband have mentioned.”  
“All multiple human births?” said Beverly incredulously. “Not just identicals?… any number or gender, mixed or not?”  
“Yes. We had not considered what occurs in utero. We have come to the conclusion that in their development, the children of multiple human pregnancies form some kind of subliminal mental connection. Once born, outside contributing circumstances can either assist in bringing some level of the connection to the surface or, conversely, without these…stimulators… it remains latent. It was not until you made us aware of the engrams that we discovered this propensity, but as yet, we do not understand it.”   
The light had dimmed and Jean-Luc lifted his head. Gently extricating himself from his wife’s embrace he eased her to one side so he could have an unobstructed view of the healers.  
“You realise what this means?”  
The conscience’s voice in his head made Jean-Luc hold up his hand, but he didn’t look at his brother. “No.” he thought to his twin. “I know the decision is yours to make, but this is a medical matter. I must discuss it with them first.”  
The conscience gave a small incline of his head. He would wait…for now. Speaking out loud, Jean-Luc said quietly, but firmly, “Well?”  
As the healer began to speak in his mind, Jean-Luc shook his head. “No. I want Beverly to hear too.”  
When the healer spoke again, Beverly smiled and nodded, letting Jean-Luc know she could hear as well.  
“We understand your inference, but we do not see how this alters anything.”  
“Really?” said a coldly angry captain. “Even though you now know that by taking an embryo from a multiple human pregnancy, you are severing and disrupting a natural aspect…an extraordinary bond…that exists, at whatever level between the developing children and may exhibit itself once the children are born? And that by removing one of the embryos, you are destroying this bond?”  
By the subtle shifting of their bodies, Jean-Luc correctly identified embarrassment and dismay.  
“It was never our intention to cause that, Jean-Luc. We did not know!”  
“But you do now!”  
The conscience had heard enough. Out loud he said, “Obviously we have much to think about. My healers will examine this…situation and offer a petition on which I will make a judgement. Until then, perhaps we should concentrate on the removal of the chemicals in your brains and that of Commander Riker? I have it on good authority he is exhibiting…atypical…behaviour.”  
Jean-Luc’s head snapped around and he glared at his brother. The conscience tried to raise his hand, but Jean-Luc gripped his wrist. “What do you mean by that? What’s happening on my ship?”  
Locking their intense gaze, the conscience said quietly, in the same way Jean-Luc did when angry, “Your ship had been rendered…inoperative.” Before Jean-Luc could voice his protests, either vocally or mentally, his twin looked down at the hand gripping his wrist and didn’t say anything further until Jean-Luc released him. He then said “Your ship and its crew are safe and unharmed. Life-support, gravity, replicators, sick bay, intra-ship communications…they are all functioning normally, but all other systems, including computer access has been…nullified.”  
“I see.” said Jean-Luc tightly. “And Commander Riker?”  
It was a healer who answered. “It would seem, having been removed from this environment, the suppressing chemicals in his brain are having an unexpected effect. He is not behaving as he should, however we can assure you he is not a danger to himself, his child, the crew or the ship.”  
Beverly’s voice was a tight as her husband’s. “Then get him down here and do whatever it is you need to do to rid all of us of the damned chemicals!”  
“That is not possible.”  
Jean-Luc and Beverly spoke in unison. “Why?”  
The conscience answered. “Because we cannot do it as a group, Jean-Luc. My healers will treat Beverly first, then send her back to your ship where she will be required to…assist in preparing Commander Riker for his arrival so he can then be treated. Once he is free of the chemicals, he will be returned to your ship. Beverly will remain on the Enterprise. Having been cleansed of the chemicals, she, indeed Commander Riker too, cannot return.”  
It was Beverly who asked the obvious. “What about Jean-Luc?”  
“He must stay.”  
Husband and wife looked at each other with alarm and fear. A healer’s voice helped ease their worry. “You need not be alarmed. We only wish to study the…connection…the conscience and his brother now share so that we can hopefully learn how to assist the brothers in developing the necessary knowledge and techniques required to control the intensity of it. We acknowledge humans are not accustomed to this…intimacy and that both men occupy positions that preclude the distraction of having a voice other than their own in their minds. However, as I have already explained, now that this phenomenon has established itself, it cannot be terminated. Therefore the only option is to find a way to control it and, as I said, that will take time. Time for us to study it and time for the…” it gestured to the brothers. “…twins to master the techniques.”  
Again Husband and wife gazed at each other. It was Jean-Luc who said quietly, “It’ll be all right, Beverly. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”  
The conscience’s voice sounded softly in their minds. “Jean-Luc is the brother…the twin of the conscience, Beverly; he will be treated according to that status.”  
He reached out the short distance between them and offered his hand, Beverly didn’t even think about it. She took it and held his intense gaze steadily. “He is in no danger, Beverly, but I would protect him with my life.”  
“As I would you.” Jean-Luc’s declaration was softly spoken but heartfelt nonetheless.  
Feeling more confident, Beverly smiled at the conscience and said with a wry smile...“You remember when I told you about having a brother and how I explained about names?”  
The twin nodded silently.  
“So you remember I told you about how it was a custom, although it’s a personal choice now, for a woman, upon marrying a man, to adopt his family name as her own and that as I have been known by my late husband’s family name for so long I had decided not to take Jean-Luc’s?”  
Again, the conscience nodded silently, but Beverly could see the curiosity in his eyes. “Well,” smiled Beverly. “One thing I didn’t tell you is that you and I are now related.”  
He tilted his head, a frown developing. “Related? But we are not of the same…blood…the same genetics.”  
“No, but again, through custom, the families of the married couple become legally related – related by law. You are what is known as my brother-in-law. And I am your sister-in-law.” She watched amused as the conscience’s eyes twinkled with delight. It was Jean-Luc who added, “And your one is now sister-in-law to both Beverly and me.”

“So…” the conscience looked at his one, then grinned with absolute joy. “You’re laughing!” He exclaimed. “Oh! Such a wonderful sound!” he then abruptly silenced and his eyes misted in tears. When he spoke his voice broke. “And I love you, my beloved one. Oh…how I have longed to hear those words.”  
A long poignant moment passed before the conscience composed himself. “So, we…” he gestured to his one and himself, “Are also legally related to both of you the same way. We are brother-in-law and sister-in-law to you and Beverly.”  
“Uh huh.” grinned Jean-Luc.  
Bowing slightly to Beverly, the conscience said solemnly, “Then I afford you, Beverly, as our sister-in-law, my protection and status.”  
Before Beverly could offer any thanks, the healer said quietly, “We must commence our treatment. Our studies have shown a procedure we feel will successfully remove the chemicals, but it would be best if we acted sooner rather than later.”  
“Jean-Luc isn’t in any increased risk by staying longer is he?” Beverly asked warily.  
“No. We can apply an inert organic substance that will breakdown into his natural enzymes. It will halt any further reaction of the chemical, but it is time dependent. It is for that reason that we must insist on haste. Once we have rid you and Commander Riker of the chemical, we will have limited time with which to find, then teach any techniques to the conscience and his brother. Once that is achieved, Jean-Luc will be returned to his ship.”  
“And then?” said a disturbed Jean-Luc. The conscience answered the question. “You will be free to leave, Jean-Luc.”  
It was the first time, since making their recovery that either man had thought about separating. They looked at each other and it was Jean-Luc who said softly, “That is going to be extraordinarily difficult.”  
“I know.”  
They continued to hold each other’s gaze until a healer’s voice said softly in their minds, “You will always have the connection. But for now, we must begin.”  
Turning away from his twin reluctantly, Jean-Luc took Beverly’s hands. Looking deeply into her eyes he said tenderly, “I don’t know how long it’ll be until I see you again…” he offered a lopsided smile, but his eyes gleamed with unshed tears. “…but when we meet again, I would like very much to make love to you, ma belle, Beverly.”  
Her lower lip trembling, Beverly’s voice shook as she replied, “I’ll be waiting, mon coeur.”  
The kissed with tenderness and underlying passion.  
As the healers led her away, Jean-Luc called out softly, “J′taime, Beverly, J′taime.”  
She blew him a kiss and was gone.

 

Despite Will’s orders to the contrary, Geordi was on duty. He’d been very surprised at the orders for what amounted to a skeleton crew to man the ship, it just didn’t seem to make any sense, so he’d taken it upon himself to be in engineering, still hard at work with what little resources he had available to try and figure a way out of their current situation. So when Will strolled blithely in, dressed in his uniform but with his baby daughter cradled in one arm, Geordi frowned, thinking, “Hey…what’s going on here?”  
As the exec moved closer, Geordi noticed, with growing concern that Charlotte’s soft, straight brown hair was now a mop of black curls. Looking into Will’s face, the engineer frowned at seeing his beatific expression.  
“Been to see Mr. Mot, Commander?”  
Dragging his adoring eyes up from his daughter, Will nodded enthusiastically. “Yes!” then, just as quickly he frowned, his expression darkening. “He wasn’t very accommodating though. I had to convince him that Charlotte wanted her hair changed and even then he seemed reluctant.” He sighed with irritation. “He may be the best barber in the ‘fleet, Geordi, but I think he’s getting a bit too self-important.”  
Moving a little closer, Geordi’s ocular implants rotated, the pupils contracting. He saw, to his horror, the baby had eye makeup on. Keeping his tone friendly, Geordi remarked, “You say Charlotte wanted her hair changed?”  
Nodding, Will’s odd grin was back. “Oh, yeah! Deanna said that we should give her the choice…you know…girls and fashion and stuff…”  
“So…Charlotte told you she wanted her hair changed after you spoke to the counsellor?”  
His gaze was back on his daughter as he said distractedly…“Yeah.”  
“Uh huh.” Geordi was now sure. Something very bad was happening. “Ah, commander, could you excuse me for just a moment, sir? I’ve just got to…um…do something.”  
“Okay,” said Will not taking his entranced gaze from his baby. “We’re only here to watch the pretty lights.”  
Geordi hesitated at that. With the ship virtually closed down, the warp core, along with just about everything else, wasn’t functioning. There were no pretty lights to see, not in engineering or anywhere else on the ship, not even the bridge.  
“Right, well you do that and I’ll be back in a minute, sir.”  
Will didn’t acknowledge the comment; he’d dismissed Geordi from his mind.  
Inside his office Geordi immediately placed a discreet, but urgent call to Counsellor Patrick Adams. Within a few minutes, Geordi was back with his commander. The man was standing with Charlotte in front of the dull, cold warp core. The baby was balanced on the railing that surrounded the normally pulsing, tall, red column, Will’s strong hands supporting her around her waist. He was bent, whispering in the baby’s ear and to Geordi’s utter astonishment, she had her head tilted, as if she was not only listening but understanding whatever it was her father was saying. He half expected her to nod wisely.   
Shaking off this disquieting feeling, Geordi sidled up to Will and stood quietly by his side. At first Will didn’t seem to notice his presence or if he did, he chose to ignore it, but after a few minutes, which Geordi spent willing Adams to hurry, Will lifted his gaze from his daughter and stared at the dark core with wonder. “Isn’t it fantastic?” He sighed and shook his head. “Charlotte says it’d be better yellow, though. She doesn’t like red. Her favourite colour is yellow.” He turned and smiled at Geordi, his vacant blue eyes making the engineer stifle a shudder. “Change it, Geordi.”  
“Change what, sir?”  
Rolling his eyes, Will pointed with a tilt of his head. “The warp core! Change it from red to yellow.” He said as if talking to a backward child. He then grinned and lifted his head. In an impersonation of his captain’s voice and accent he intoned, “Make it so, Mr. LaForge!”  
“Ah…right. Red to yellow. Consider it done, Commander.”  
Will looked back at the warp core and gasped. “Oh wow! Charlotte…you were so right! That’s much prettier!”  
Geordi barely contained his relieved sigh as Patrick Adams’s soft voice said from behind him, “Well now, what have we here?”  
Will didn’t take his eyes off whatever it was he was seeing, but disturbingly, Charlotte seemed to be just as entranced as her father, her black eyes fixed on the dark column in front of her.  
Coming to stand on the other side of Will, Patrick gave Geordi a meaningful look and the man nodded surreptitiously, taking a closer position on the opposite side of the big man and his little girl.  
“Commander?” Adams said gently. Will ignored him. Louder, Adams said “Will!”  
That seemed to register, because Will half turned his head, but kept his attention on the warp core. “I have to take a vid of this…it’s so incredible!” He then turned his head the rest of the way until he was facing, but not really seeing Adams. “She was right. Charlotte said it would be prettier yellow.”  
Adopting a quiet, soothing voice, Adams said, “Why don’t we go back to your quarters, Will. Surely Charlotte needs changing?”  
“Nah,” Will turned back to the warp core. “Can’t do that.”  
“Why?”  
“Deanna’s asleep. She needs her rest…you know…just having the baby and all…”  
Adams and Geordi shared a look before the counsellor asked, “When did she have the baby, Will?”  
The big man snorted and gave Adams a quick look of disbelief. “You know damn well.”  
“I forgot. Can you remind me?”  
Taking a deep breath and rolling his eyes, Will said slowly, separating each word,   
“Two days ago.”  
“Ah, yes…that’s right. Well, little Charlotte must need changing and I bet she’s getting hungry. Newborns need a lot of attention…and sleep.”  
Will looked down at the baby and frowned. “She might need a feed…” he gently hoisted her up and cradled her in his arms. “Yeah. Let’s go home and see mommy.”  
Adams placed a fraternal hand on Will’s shoulder and made a show of admiring the little girl.  
“She sure is pretty, Will…and is that makeup I see?”  
“Yeah,” grinned Will. “Mom and daughter stuff…you know…”  
Adams smiled, nodding knowingly. He then said conversationally, “Would you mind if I tagged along? I’d really like to see Deanna…you know…have a chat about the birth…how she feels…”  
“Counsellor stuff.” snorted Will. He then cocked his head. “Yeah, okay. Come on, if she’s awake, I’m sure she’d love to see you.”  
As they left, a confused Geordi muttered, “Is he completely out of his mind? How can he recognise Adams as a counsellor and still think Deanna’s alive? Adams was Deanna replacement! And what’s with the hair and makeup on the baby?”  
Shrugging but unable to shed the feeling of deep unease, Geordi went back into the main body of engineering and looked down at the central control console. Sighing he placed his hands on the flat surface, bent slightly at the waist and shook his head. “I think I understand that old saying about bashing your head against a brick wall. It must be really nice when you finally stop.”

 

As they entered Will’s quarters, the commander put his finger to his lips in a classic, ‘Shhh’ gesture. He then left the counsellor and went briefly into his bedroom, before reappearing.  
Whispering to Adams he said, “Dee’s still asleep. I’ll go change Charlotte. You replicate her bottle; it’s in the files under Deanna, formula A.”  
Adams waited a few seconds before walking quietly to the bedroom door. Seeing the room empty and hearing Will talking to Charlotte as he changed her nappy in the nursery, the counsellor went to the replicator, ordered then collected the warm bottle of milk and was sitting on the sofa when Will came back into the room.  
Sending a warm smile at the rotund man Will frowned as he watched Adams wipe his hand over his sweaty brow. With his distaste obvious, Will said rudely, “Don’t you go spreading any germs. Newborns are very susceptible. Maybe you should go and wash your face and hands.”  
Smiling through both his embarrassment and the insult, Adams stayed seated, which seemed to annoy Will. His eyes glittered and his tone changed. “Do I have to make that an order, Lieutenant?”  
Standing, Adams shook his head. “Of course not, Commander. I’ll go and wash right now.”  
Will’s soft grunt was his only acknowledgement. By the time Adams came back, Will was settled back in his chair, Charlotte sucking on the bottle’s teat contentedly. The commander’s mood had lightened considerably.  
“Isn’t she gorgeous?”  
“Yes.” Agreed the counsellor. “And her hair…so like her mother’s.”  
“Hmm…” Will hummed happily. Sighing, his smile showed nothing but love and paternal pride. “Her old hair was so…you know…boring. She told me she wanted to change it. Dee was so pleased she chose hair the same as her mom’s.”  
“When you say she, Will, who do you mean?” Adams was sitting on the edge of the sofa and once again sweat was trickling down his face. Indeed sweat stains were visible under his flabby arms and around his collar, the uniform tunic fabric darkening.  
Glancing up suspiciously, Will grimaced at seeing the unpleasant sight of the copiously perspiring man. “What’s wrong with you? It’s not hot in here. Dee and I…we’re very careful about the temperature. Newborns need a constant comfortable room temperature.”  
“Yes, I know.” Adams said placatingly, acutely aware of his appearance but unable to prevent the cause. “So…can you tell me, Will? Who's she when you were talking about Charlotte and changing her hair?”  
Giving him a look that clearly said, “Are you nuts?” Will shook his head. Again, enunciating as if Adams was incapable of simple comprehension, Will said slowly, “She is Charlotte.”  
“Oh, right…” nodded Adams. “So silly of me! So Charlotte told you she wanted to change her hair from…boring…to…?”  
“Like Deanna’s! Her mom’s!” Will was becoming agitated so Adams shifted focus.  
“I see. I keep forgetting, Will. Where did Deanna give birth?”  
Pursing his lips, Will dropped his gaze down at the suckling baby and sighed, his expression melting into obviously happy reminiscence.  
“It was in sick bay. Beverly assisted in the delivery, but Dee didn’t need any help. She was wonderful. This little baby was put straight on Dee’s chest and she fed almost immediately. Dee was so happy.” He looked up, his eyes glistening with tears. “Remember the ship-wide announcement the captain made? We were so proud! Dee said she could not only hear the cheering…she could sense it!”  
“Hmm, yes.” Adams nodded, a smile gracing his round face. “It was very brave of the Captain to do that, wasn’t it?”  
Will looked up and frowned. “What?”  
“Well, you know…with him and Doctor Crusher unable to have children…it must’ve been very painful for him…”  
Will’s voice dropped to a menacing growl. “Get out!”  
“Why, Will? I haven’t seen Deanna yet. I’d really like to talk to her.”  
Standing, Will loomed over the still-seated counsellor, his eyes blazing. “I’m going to count to five. If you’re still here by the time I’m finished…”  
“You’ll do what, Will? What about Charlotte?”  
Suddenly confused, Will looked down at his daughter and Adams stood, reaching behind him to the very tight waist band of his trousers. He was trying to extricate the hidden hypospray of sedative as he said, “May I hold her, Will? I haven’t had a cuddle yet.”  
“No…” Will muttered. “You’ve got too many germs.”  
Finally the hypo slid free and Adams did his best to hide it as he brought his hand around, but Will saw it and swung the hand that held the now-empty bottle. It caught Adams across the jaw and he staggered sideways, his bulk taking over and causing him to fall.  
Will was advancing on him, his grim expression giving Adams no doubt his life was in danger. He was about to call security when the doors to the quarters opened and Beverly Crusher walked in. She summed up the situation very quickly and, as Will hadn’t seemed to notice her entry, manoeuvred her way to the hypospray she could see lying on the floor near the bulkhead, where it had ended up as it flew out of Adams hand as he’d hit the deck. Flicking his eyes at the doctor, Adams gave a nod. It was all Beverly needed to know.  
With fluid grace she stepped up behind Will and injected him, deftly wresting Charlotte from his arms as he collapsed.   
As soon as she was in Beverly’s arms, the baby began to scream. Over the terrible din, Beverly asked loudly, “Are you all right?”  
He was gasping for breath, sweat running down his face and body as he struggled ungainly to his feet, but Adams managed to nod. While he tried to regain his breath, Beverly shouted, “What happened?”  
Still out of breath, Adams pointed at Will’s unconscious form and gasped, “….delusional….thought Troi…still alive….baby newborn…”  
Beverly looked down at the screaming baby and saw her hair and makeup. Grimacing, Beverly shouted, “The commander’s going down to the surface! As soon as he’s gone, I want you to accompany me to sick bay! You’re long overdue for a checkup!”  
Patrick Adams was not usually a procrastinator, indeed, he’d always felt he should set an example, especially to his patients. He knew his ballooning weight and the ever-present sweating were symptoms of something, but he’d conveniently convinced himself it couldn’t possibly be anything remotely serious and just settled for making half-hearted attempts to increase his exercise and reduce his food intake. The fact that he wasn’t actually eating all that much he ignored. Obesity was rare and he had felt very conspicuous, but he grew accustomed to the stares and put it out of his mind. No longer, it would seem.  
Bowing to the inevitable, he nodded and watched with surprise as Beverly said over the racket, “You can take him now.”  
To Adam’s utter astonishment, Will simply vanished.  
“Come on, Lieutenant, you have an appointment in sick bay!”  
Still stunned, the fat man followed Beverly out of Will’s quarters.

 

Jean-Luc and his brother were in what Jean-Luc had come to think of as his brother’s lounge. His one had left them alone and the adviser had just left, having informed the conscience that Will had arrived and was undergoing treatment. The conscience didn’t tell his brother of Will’s unconscious state, he knew his healers would care for the first officer.  
Now alone again, the men were each enjoying a mug of hot drac. Jean-Luc found he liked the drink and sat back saying idly, “I’d like to introduce you to Earl Grey tea.”  
The twin smiled. “Beverly told me about that. Apparently you drink as much…tea…as I drink drac.” His smile grew to a rare full grin, his eye brow arching. “Nous avons chacun nos vices, hein, Jean-Luc.”  
Jean-Luc grinned ruefully and inclined his head in acknowledgement. “I wouldn’t call these…” he held up his mug. “…vices…but it is true I do tend to drink mine quite often.”  
“Moi aussi.” Both men grinned and drank their beverages. On finishing, the conscience leaned forward in his chair and contemplated the mug he held, wrapped in both his hands.  
“Jean-Luc…” he said tentatively. “…I would like a name.”  
“A name?”   
“Oui.” The twin looked up and offered a shy smile. “I know your…our…family name…Picard, but I would like a familiar name a…given?” his eyebrows rose and Jean-Luc nodded. “..name? Un nom de mon cru.”  
Jean-Luc’s smile was a warm one. “A name of your own?”  
“Yes.” The conscience nodded. “Is there a name…a given name that our family has used? One that has some specific meaning?”  
Sighing, Jean-Luc scratched above his ear. “Not really. Names…given names, tend to follow trends…fashions…” To his confused brother’s expression, Jean-Luc said hopefully, “Populaire à l′époque.”  
The twin frowned, understanding the words but not the intent. “Popular at the time?”

Scratching again, Jean-Luc pulled his lips to one side. “There are only a certain number of given names in each language. Now it’s perfectly acceptable to make up a name, indeed it happens quite often or the spelling of a common name may be changed to make it unique, but generally speaking, names, both male and female wax and wane in popularity. With each generation you will find a certain percentage of those born will share the same given name, based on popular trends.”  
“So…our family has no tie, no predisposition to a particular given name?”  
Shaking his head, Jean-Luc shrugged. “Not that I’m aware of. Our family has always chosen ordinary French names.”  
The conscience considered this, then asked, “What about our family’s origins? The other country you mentioned. Spain?”  
“Well,” Jean-Luc shrugged again. “I only found out about that through a rather extraordinary experience, but unless I do some deep research, the only name of any Spanish ancestor of ours that I know is…Javier Maribona-Picard.”  
“The given name is Javier?”  
“Yes.”  
“Do you know what it means?”  
“Hmm…” Jean-Luc frowned. “My Spanish is a little patchy…but the Spanish variation of the name, Xavier, means…” he narrowed his eyes in thought. “Um…In the new house…I think.”  
He sighed. “I need to talk to my ship’s computer.” He said with a rueful smile.  
“Then by all means…do so.”   
Jean-Luc blinked with surprise then said tentatively, “Picard to Enterprise?”  
“Enterprise here, Captain. Are you all right, sir?”  
His expression one of delight, Jean-Luc grinned. “Yes…yes, I’m fine. To whom am I speaking?”  
“Oh! My apologies, Captain. Lieutenant Petersen, sir, I’m the officer of the watch.”  
“I see.” Jean-Luc was still smiling. “Well, I just want to ask the ship’s computer something, Lieutenant.”  
“Ah…fine, Captain. Go right ahead, sir.”  
Feeling a little ridiculous, Jean-Luc said, “Computer, I want to know the derivation and meaning of the name, Javier.”  
“Javier is of Basque origin. It means ‘New house’.”  
Just to make sure he’d been correct, Jean-Luc went on, “And the name, Xavier?”  
“Xavier is the Spanish form of Javier. It has a slightly different interpretation. It means ‘Of the new house.’”  
“And in Catalan?”   
“In Catalan, the name Javier is ‘Xavi’ and means the same as the Spanish version.”  
“Picard out.” He smiled sheepishly. “Almost right.”  
The twin shrugged. “In…of…” he shrugged again and both men laughed. Jean-Luc’s mirth subsided when his brother asked, “This…Javier Maribona-Picard? What do you know of him?”  
Letting out a long breath, Jean-Luc’s face fell. “Unfortunately, he was…” The captain shook his head. “I was about to say he was a bad person, but I think that’s a little unfair. He was a product of his time. I learned from a remarkable people that Javier was a soldier of Spain and he had, along with others of his ilk, taken part in what became known as the Pueblo Revolt which was a brutal retribution…a massacre perpetrated against the Pueblo Indians of the Americas.  
“I have since done some research on this…if you’re interested?”  
The conscience nodded eagerly. “Yes…please.”  
“Right. Well, the Spanish had colonised the Americas but as was common way back then, the conquerors quickly did their best to eliminate the native people’s religion and convert them to their own, in this case, Catholicism. This was done by brutal suppression. The new farming practices and the removal of a large portion of locally produced food to Spain disrupted the native economy and this, accompanied by a growing dissatisfaction with the new religion foisted upon them led to deep resentment towards Spain.  
“The people grew more and more discontented and this was met with even more stringent repression by the Catholic Church. This in turn brought about minor, isolated revolts which, in 1675 were crushed by a series of executions. One native leader who escaped this…pogrom, a man who came to be known as Popé, organised a large revolt. It took place on the 10th of August, 1680 and resulted in a massacre. So many people died…on both sides, but the natives were decimated.  
“There were further rebellions in later years, but they came to nothing. The might of Spain and the church was too great. So our ancestor, Javier, was one of the Spanish soldiers that took part in that sad and sorry part of Earth’s history. Not something to be proud of. At least I don’t think so.”  
The conscience nodded thoughtfully. “Sixteen eighty. What is the date now?”  
“Stardate…”  
The twin shook his head. “No, not the stardate. The…the…” he rolled his hand.  
“You mean the date as per the Gregorian calendar…the old Earth calendar?”  
“Oui, I think so.”  
“Well, I’d have to ask the computer for the entire date…”  
“No, just the…année?”  
“The year? Oh…2376”  
The conscience sighed. “Six hundred and ninety six years. A long time.”  
“Yes.” agreed Jean-Luc.  
“The date of your birth. You know it?”   
That made Jean-Luc smile. “Yes. It’s known as one’s birthday. Mine is the 13th of July, 2305.”

The conscience thought for a while, his eyes drifting to the clear windows. Bringing his attention back to his brother, his eyes glittered with intelligence and eagerness. “It is fitting though, n′est-ce pas?”  
That made Jean-Luc frown in incomprehension. “Fitting? What’s fitting?”  
“The name. Javier. New house. Have I not found a new house, Jean-Luc? La maison des Picard?”  
Jean-Luc’s soft chuckle made the twin tilt his head. Where once such a reaction would have irritated or angered him, he now knew to share the amusement. He understood his brother meant no offence and would share the reason for his obvious mirth.  
“You remind me of a former crew member of mine. A Klingon named Worf. He was of the House of Mogh.” Jean-Luc shook his head and chortled again. “I never thought of my…sorry…our family name as a House, at least not in that context. As vintners, our product is sometimes referred to as Chateau Picard, which of course means Castle Picard, but that pertains to our wine, not the familial link.”  
Smiling at his brother, the conscience said quietly, “So, what do you think? Est-il approprié?”  
The captain stood, bringing his brother to his feet also. “I think it’s very appropriate.” He offered his hand and, after a moments’ hesitation, the conscience took it. “Welcome to the Maison de Picard…Javier.”  
Their eyes met in a steady gaze as the newly named man said with obvious pride…“Je suis la conscience. I am also Javier Picard.”  
“Je suis le Capitaine. I am also Jean-Luc Picard. Nous sommes frères. Les frères jumeaux.”  
“Oui. We are brothers. We are twin brothers.”  
“Et pour toujours connecté.”  
“Yes…forever connected.”  
Their smiles grew until they laughed, but neither let go of the other’s hand.

 

The journey from Will’s quarters to sick bay was mercifully quick, however, trapped in the confines of the turbolift with the screaming baby made Adams grimace, wishing her could put his hands over his ears. Once back in a corridor, and happily near the end of their peregrinate, Beverly, staring resolutely ahead, Charlotte rigid in her arms as she continued with her hellish noise, yelled loudly, “Do you know if she’s been fed lately?!”  
“Yes!” yelled Adams. “She was fed and changed only half an hour ago!”  
Nodding grimly, the pair entered sick bay. Stunned staff screwed up their faces, some raising their hands to cover their ears. Pointing with her head, Beverly shouted at Adams… “Biobed!”  
He nodded his understanding and went to a biobed, grunting as hoisted his bulk onto it. Meanwhile, Alyssa Ogawa had joined Beverly who had laid Charlotte on the main diagnostic bed. The medical tricorder was offered and Beverly shot a quick, rueful smile of thanks.   
Doctor Ogawa gently restrained the baby as Beverly scanned her, the red head’s expression one of worried disbelief. “Neurotransmitter…psilosynine…it’s off the scale! We need a neuro-sedative! Paediatric dylamadon! Zero-point five mcg, STAT!”  
The sudden cessation of sound made everyone take in an involuntary breath. Awed, Alyssa said quietly, although her voice sounded loud in the now almost silent facility, “How could something so little make so much noise?”  
Shaking her head, Beverly said worriedly, “Forget about the noise she made! Why is a baby who’s only one quarter Betazoid and only just over three months old…manage to produce these levels of psilosynine? An adult full telepath would have difficulty doing this!” She offered the tricorder to Alyssa who gaped incredulously.   
“But, Doctor Crusher, even if we discount these levels, Betazoids, even hybrid Betazoids, don’t develop their abilities until puberty.”  
“I know.” Beverly frowned. “How long was she with her father?”  
Pulling down the corners of her mouth, Alyssa shook her head. “I’m sorry, Doctor, I don’t know. But…he has no psionic powers…does he?”  
“He had some, though very limited, with Counsellor Troi.”  
Turning to look over at Patrick Adams, Beverly raised her voice a little. “Counsellor…do you know how long Charlotte has been with Commander Riker?”  
He scrunched his mouth, then his cheeks puffed as he blew out a breath. “I can’t be certain, Doctor, but I think, apart from short visits when he could manage it, it’s only been the last...8…9 hours he was able to stay with her.”  
“And this 8 or 9 hours…they were together all the time?”  
He nodded, making sweat drip off his chin. “Yes.” He then added, “Commander LaForge told me something odd.” To Beverly’s raised eyebrow he supplied, “He said that at one stage it appeared as if the baby was actually listening and understanding what her father was saying to her.” His expression sobered. “In fact while I was with them in engineering, I witnessed the baby staring intently at the cold warp core, seemingly as enraptured as her father was.”  
“Enraptured?” Beverly’s eyes narrowed. “By what?”  
“It seems Commander Riker had informed Commander LaForge that Charlotte preferred the colour yellow for the pulsing light of the core, rather than the normal red. Riker asked LaForge to change it. He played along and Riker proceeded to behave as if that’s what he could see…and so did the baby.”  
“But the core was cold.” Beverly verified carefully.  
“Yes.”  
Alyssa broke the tension with a softly worded question. “Given the levels of psilosynine…are we dealing with empathy or telepathy?”  
“I don’t know.” Beverly was stumped. None of this made any sense. “I know that Commander Riker’s brain chemistry was compromised, it’s why he’s been taken back to the planet, but why...or if…that’s responsible for this…” she gestured to the sleeping baby. “I have no idea.”  
Turning to her colleague, Beverly said, “Set up a level four neurological scan. Assuming she has a paracortex, I want to know what it’s doing as well as having a good look at her parietal lobe.” Alyssa turned to set up the necessary equipment when Beverly said as an afterthought, “…and Alyssa…check her engrams.”  
“Yes, Doctor.”  
Moving to Adams, Beverly began to scan him. “Now then, Counsellor, let’s see what’s troubling you.”

 

Will shifted slightly and yawned, thinking it’s been far too long since he’d had such a damned good sleep. In the chill of the dim room, he kept his eyes closed, thinking that he might enjoy going ice-fishing. “Yeah,” he thought. “…a nice northern pike or a big burbot’d be nice.”  
He grinned, then his expression turned sour. “Oh, shit. Dad busted the damned net!” He sighed and turned over, thinking he might as well sleep in. His leave was to end soon and he’d not get a chance to luxuriate in bed once back aboard the Potemkin.  
He never saw the light that enveloped his head, sending him into a deeper sleep. The cells of his brain enlarged infinitesimally and began to release the chemicals, but they stubbornly refused to exit as they were supposed to. This was the third time the procedure had been initiated. For some reason, Will’s brain was not responding as it should.   
The watching healers raised their hands, the chatter brisk.  
“Why is this happening? The conscience’s one…Beverly…her brain released the chemicals without difficulty.”  
“Yes.” Agreed another. “And she experienced the same dream-like state during rises in the activity of the subconscious. Riker is exhibiting the same progression, yet his brain cells seem to have…incorporated the chemicals.”  
“It matters not.” said a third. “The essence will do its job.”  
“Agreed,” the first gestured. “But at what cost? We do not know what this…” She waved her hand at the sleeping man. “…protracted procedure will do to him. Just because Beverly was quickly and successfully treated, does not mean Riker will be, especially given his brain’s anomalous response.”  
They fell silent. It was the second speaker, a male who sighed and said, “We can only wait and trust the essence.”  
Bowing their heads in unison, they went back to watching the human.

 

The adviser tilted his head as Javier laughed. Placing a friendly hand on his trusted companion’s shoulder, he said, “You must forgive me, old friend, but hearing your…voice…” he shook his head, doing his best to bring himself back under control. Jean-Luc looked on, a smile on his face.  
“It’s not that I can finally hear your thoughts, old friend, it’s just that you all sound the same!”  
Javier began to laugh again and Jean-Luc joined him. Confused, the adviser said cautiously, “I do not understand. Why does the fact those of us you have heard possess the same sounding voice cause you amusement?”  
To Jean-Luc’s delight his brother’s laughter increased. The man was now bent, clutching his stomach, tears running down his face. Realising he had to intervene; Jean-Luc went to Javier and took his arm, encouraging him to the windows. Sending an apologetic look at the adviser, Jean-Luc said placatingly, “Just give him a moment.”  
Turning the twin so that he faced the windows, Jean-Luc said quietly, “Although I know the delicious feeling of liberation you’re experiencing right now, perhaps it might be…politic…if you regained some semblance of composure? For those of us in a position of authority, there is a time and place for lowering our mantle. I don’t think now is appropriate.”  
The laughter quietened to sporadic bursts of chuckles, then trickled into snorts before finally ceasing. Wiping his eyes and face, a now controlled conscience returned to his advisor, leaving Jean-Luc by the windows.  
“I believe you have the information I requested?” Javier said quietly.  
If any unease remained, it didn’t show in the being’s voice. “Yes. Our calculations are complete. By the Earth’s measurement of time, as expressed as days, months and years, you were born on the 13th day in the month of July in the year 2305. The recorded time in increments of the passage of the day, again as measured in human standards, was five hours, eighteen minutes in the morning.”   
Nodding, and smiling his thanks, Javier said quietly, “Thank you, you may leave us now.”  
As the doors were closing, the twin turned to his brother. “Jean-Luc…do you know the exact time of your birth?”  
“Yes.” He replied as he went to his twin.  
To his brother’s raised eyebrow Jean-Luc supplied, “I was born at four fifty-eight am.”   
“AM?” The conscience said, his head tilted.  
“Ante meridian. Morning. Past midday, time as expressed in analogue terms becomes ‘PM’…post meridian. It pertains to the passage of the sun, the meridian being the zenith…midday. Ante…before. Post…after. Words from an ancient Earth language called Latin.”  
The smile that crept over the twin’s face was difficult to describe. He moved closer to Jean-Luc and placed a fraternal hand on his shoulder. “I bow to you, Jean-Luc. Older brother.”  
“Older? By how many days?”  
Shaking his head, the conscience’s enigmatic smile grew. “No, not days, Jean-Luc. Minutes.”  
“Minutes?” parroted Jean-Luc incredulously. “Are you saying we not only share the same birth date but are separated by mere minutes? How many?”  
“Twenty.”  
Now it was Jean-Luc’s turn to smile enigmatically. “I’m twenty minutes older than you?”  
“So it would seem.”  
Jean-Luc’s dark eyes twinkled, making his twin know he was amused. He didn’t have to wait long to find out why.  
“There is a very old saying on Earth, my brother…Javier, mon petit frère. Respect your elders. Respectez vos aînés.”  
“By the use of both my languages, le grand frère, I suspect you seek to capitalise on your position of superiority by making it so patently clear who has the haute main.”  
Jean-Luc snorted, his eyes still twinkling. “Not the upper hand, exactly, but it is good to be the king!”  
They laughed until Javier said, “King?”  
“Roi?” Offered Jean-Luc, but Javier shrugged in a very Gallic fashion. “Well,” Jean-Luc said, “…it’s a term used to describe a male leader, often one born into a Royal line. Une dynastie. Actually,” said Jean-Luc thoughtfully. “There are many terms for people in the position of ultimate power, male and female. I suppose it’s a reflection of Earth’s history that our ancestors not only accepted these people, although often unwillingly, that such a wealth of words are used to describe them.”  
He then gave his brother a measured look and asked, “Has the conscience always been exclusively male?”  
“Oui. From what I understand, the ancient ones, those who decided on the concept of the conscience, used their society’s members as a guide. They knew that females, though perfectly capable in every way, were hampered in one important factor. That was, on producing young they devoted themselves wholly to them. The males in my peoples’ society are just as devoted to their offspring but can separate themselves more easily than the females. This phenomenon the females exhibit lasts only until the young are…sevré?”  
“Weaned.” Supplied Jean-Luc.  
“Ah…oui. The fierce devotion to their young abates once the children become more independent. But the conscience cannot be distracted. At any time the conscience may be called upon to make a judgement for the people and it must be done with nothing else in the mind but the petition.   
“After my one and I reproduced, there were times, especially when our children were very young, that I found it difficult to put them out of my mind to perform my task, but I did. My one would not have been able to do that…not when our young were still…gagner leur subsistence de la poitrine.”  
“Breast feeding.”  
“Yes.” Javier sighed. “So long ago, although it was making a decision without knowing anything about their intended…first consciences…the practice of taking only males begun and has persisted.”  
“I see.” Javier’s expression soured as he saw his brother’s face cloud with the same old problem. Before he could say anything, Jean-Luc said, “You can’t leave, can you.”  
Sighing, Javier rubbed his brow, reaching behind him to bring his braid around to his front. He focused on it and Jean-Luc recognised the action for the delaying tactic it was. A brittle silence settled as Jean-Luc waited for a reply.  
“Je ne peux pas, Jean-Luc. I cannot. Not only can I not abandon my people, but my one, mes enfants…they cannot leave this complex and I cannot leave them.  
“I am liée…tied…to both my people and ma famille…just as you, mon frère are liée to Starfleet and your Enterprise.”  
His eyes showing his deep distress, Jean-Luc said softly, “I do understand, Javier, but I am torn…conflictuel. I don’t know what to do! My heat tells me to walk away…do nothing and leave your people to live their extraordinary lives in the peace they’ve enjoyed for so very long, but my oath, my years of service to an organisation that I believe in wholeheartedly…my raison d′etre…says I must intervene!”  
He walked to the windows and stared upwards his expression stricken. “I cannot find my way! How can I find a resolution to this…this…dilemma affreux!”  
Coming to stand with his twin, Javier placed his hand on Jean-Luc’s shoulder. “I know it seems like a hideous dilemma, Jean-Luc, but it need not be. We have some time yet. A solution may still be found.”  
Whatever Jean-Luc was going to say was lost as the doors opened and two healers came in. Javier left his brother and met with them briefly. They stayed back as he rejoined Jean-Luc and said quietly, “They have devised a method for us to gain control over our connection, Jean-Luc. We are to begin to learn now.”  
Bracing himself, Jean-Luc followed Javier and the healers from the room.

 

The healers treating Will had come to an impasse. The essence was not able to remove the chemicals. It was able to sustain Will and keep his brain safe from any further damage, but such was the incorporation of the chemicals with his cells, it wasn’t possible to utilise the same inert buffer they’d used on Jean-Luc. They felt the first officer was in no immediate danger, but they knew something had to be done. The question was…what? To keep him stable, the essence required him to stay in a light unconscious state, able to dream and be comfortable, unknowing as to where he was.  
A group of four healers puzzled over their instruments and floating consoles. One highlighted an area of Will’s brain and pointed to it. “From what we understand of the human brain, this area, though small, should not be active in this way.”  
“I am unable to identify this chemical…” a molecular representation of the substance floated in the air. “We have not seen this in humans before. I am not sure from where it is originating.”  
“Is it possible some other organ in his body is its source?”  
“No, I do not think so. It is a mystery.”  
There was a long silence before one of the four lifted his hands and gestured, “We should consult with Beverly.”  
“Agreed, but she cannot be brought to us, nor can we go to her.”  
“Then we must ask if our strategists will allow us to interface with her via our link to their ship.”  
“Agreed. And of course, we must petition the conscience.”  
“That would be problematic. He is at present undergoing intensive education along with his brother. It would be best if he were not disturbed.”  
“Then how should we proceed? It is not enough to gain permission from the strategists. Without the sanction from the conscience, we cannot initiate any action.”  
One of the females looked at Will, noting his REM. She sighed and tilted her head, her body glowing brightly. “I would like to think we have time…he…” she gestured to Will’s insensate form. “…is in no danger, but the conscience’s brother’s time with us is limited. It had been envisaged that once the brothers had learned the necessary techniques to control their connection, the Starfleet ship would leave. That cannot happen if this human is still here, untreated and dependent on us.”  
“And there is more.” Added another. “You are forgetting the perceived dilemma the conscience’s brother labours under. Despite the fact he can do nothing to change what we know is right; he struggles to come to terms with the situation. Even if we successfully treat this human, there is nothing to suggest the Starfleet ship will leave once all the humans are back aboard it.”  
“This gets us no further. We must address the fact that somehow we have to gain permission to open an interface with Beverly. Until we do that, we will be no more successful in treating this human than were before.”  
The brightly glowing female suddenly dimmed as the implications of the male’s words hit home. “Are you suggesting we take a unilateral decision? Act without a judgement?”  
The male tilted his head. “Not precisely. There can be no judgement if a petition has not been made.”  
“But a petition must be made! Even with the strategists’ agreement, we cannot act without the judgement of the inevitable petition!”  
“You are belabouring the point! The conscience is not available! What do you think is going to happen if we cannot successfully treat this human…the second in command of their ship? Do you think the conscience’s brother…the captain of the ship will leave without him? No! He will not! And while he stays he will ponder further on his dilemma, perhaps even summon other Starfleet vessels! All because we did not act as we should.”  
“Then consult the AI!” Her stiffly rigid arms shoved out in front of her body denoted her raised voice. Calmly, his hands at waist height in a gesture of placation, the male gestured patiently, “The AI was never intended to act on matters concerning individuals, you know that. In the event a conscience is not available, the AI can adjudicate on matters of law and in extreme situations, global crises, but in cases like this…” he swept his hand at the somnolent Will. “It is not appropriate to even put the petition to it.”  
In the uneasy silence, the male’s hands swept across seemingly empty air and suddenly an image of sick bay appeared. A startled staff member gave an involuntary yelp and called, “Doctor Crusher? I think you should see this, sir!”  
On the Enterprise, Beverly was peering intently at an image on a monitor beside Patrick’s bio bed when the uneven voice of her nurse made her lift her head. On one wall, the main screen was showing a group of aliens, a holographic image of a human brain floating in the air in front of them.  
As Beverly said distractedly, “Doctor Ogawa…take over here please…” she went over to the screen. On the planet, three of the healers backed away, leaving one, the male to ‘interface’ with Beverly.   
Text scrolled across the bottom of the screen.  
“Most Prominent Healer…Beverly…we require your assistance.”  
Keeping a tight rein on her emotions, Beverly said quietly, “Are Captain Picard and Commander Riker all right?”  
“Yes, you need not be alarmed. As we speak, Captain Picard is with the conscience, undergoing education to learn the techniques required to…”  
Beverly held up her hand, saying impatiently. “Okay, I get that. What’s wrong? Why do you require my assistance?”  
“It is this.”  
The hologram of Will’s brain enlarged until it took up the entire screen, leaving just a thin band at the bottom for the scrolling text.  
“What is this and what does it do? We are unfamiliar with it and the chemical it seems to be producing.”   
In an inset, an image of the molecular structure of the chemical appeared. Beverly’s eyes narrowed and she tapped her teeth with her fingernail. “I’ve seen that before…” she thought, but was brought out of her reverie by the bright highlighting of the area of Will’s brain under study.  
Pulling her lips to one side, Beverly tilted her head. “Well, basically what you’re looking at is what’s known as the Triune Brian. It consists of three parts. The reptilian complex, known as the R-complex, the paleomammalian complex and the neomammalian cortex, known as the neocortex. As you can see all involve the floor of the forebrain.  
“The paleomammalian complex consists of the septum, amygdala, hypothalamus, hippocampal complex and the cingulated cortex. Together that’s known as the limbic system. The R-complex is in the basal ganglia. I guess the only other thing I can tell you is that the neocortex is an exclusive mammalian neural structure.”  
“And the purpose of these structures?”  
“Well, believe it or not, we still don’t know, not comprehensively. The Triune Brain was first described way back in the 1960s and there was a lot of debate about not only its existence, but its function. We now think it’s responsible for our more…base…that is…instinctive thinking processes. It seems that these…default patterns of thought which are unique to each individual; can be brought to the more evolved upper forebrain for more…ordered and logical thought processes. Like engrams, the general consensus is that it’s another one of humankind's’ physical evolutionary relics.”  
“Why then does commander Riker’s brain exhibit such activity in this area?”  
Keeping her concern at bay, Beverly asked calmly, “Is he in any distress…any danger?”  
“Not that we know of, Beverly, but we have been unable to remove our chemicals from his brain. Not only have they incorporated with his neural cells in such a way as to resist our efforts to remove them, but the other chemical, the one he is producing seems to be interfering in the process.”  
While the text had been scrolling, Beverly had enlarged the inset image of the molecular structure. Something was tugging in her mind. Out of sheer habit she said, Computer…”  
The text silenced her.  
“Unfortunately, we cannot give you access to your ship’s computer.”  
“Then how do you expect me to help?” said a frustrated Beverly. “I have a functioning sick bay with no medical database! That is plain stupid and damned dangerous!”  
She couldn’t see what was happening on the planet below, but the male’s next action was so shocking two of the three healers left the room, leaving one who took several steps away.  
“I cannot condone this!” The female said, her arms once again standing stiffly out from her body. The male bowed, his hands kept very low, a gesture of submission. “I accept your admonition and I take full responsibility for what I am doing. If you are too troubled, perhaps you should do as the others have done…and leave.”  
The deeply conflicted female looked at Will, then back at her colleague. She lowered her hands to waist height. “I will stay.”  
Beverly sighed with relief as she read the new text. “You have full access to your ship’s medical data base.”  
Immediately, Beverly used her fingertips to rearrange the images on her screen until both were of similar size. She highlighted the molecular structure image. “Computer, identify this molecule.”  
The reply was instant. “That molecule is the neurotransmitter, psilosynine.”  
Her eyes narrowed as a new thought intruded. “Now that simply can’t be a coincidence!” she thought quietly, but with suspicion.  
Out loud she said, “That chemical is secreted by telepaths and usually comes from a part of their brain called the paracortex. As a neurotransmitter, the amount produced is in direct proportion to the amount of telepathy used. Basically, the more the ability is utilised, the more psilosynine is produced.”  
“But, Beverly, Commander Riker has no…paracortex, nor is he a telepath.”  
“I know!” Beverly immediately regretted her harshly snapped reply. Calming herself, she explained. “We have a situation here; one that I think may have something to do with Commander Riker’s condition.”  
“And that is?”  
“He has an infant daughter. She’s only just over three months old, but has been recently seen to be exhibiting some kind of telepathic connection with her father. Now, Commander Riker does possess some psionic ability, His partner, the mother of his child was a Betazoid/human hybrid and as is normal for such a mix, instead of being a full telepath and empath, as Betazoids are, she only possessed the gift of empathy. However, something has happened to…” Beverly rolled her hand, searching for the right description. “…to open some kind of…bridge…between father and daughter. And if that’s so, then Commander Riker has somehow activated his Triune brain and used it unconsciously to function as a paracortex and the psilosynine is an inevitable by-product.”  
“Have you carried out any studies of his…daughter?”  
Turning her head, Beverly called, “Alyssa? Have the neural series been completed on Charlotte yet?”  
Her attention on Patrick’s readouts, Alyssa looked over at the screen above Charlotte’s little head then turned back to Beverly. “Preliminary analysis only. The scans won’t be completed for another twenty minutes.”  
“What’re they saying so far?”  
Leaving her patient with an apologetic smile, Alyssa went to the computer and entered some commands. “Routing to your screen now, Doctor.”  
“Thanks…” Beverly said distractedly, already immersed in the data that was appearing. Her eyes widened. “Now how is that possible?” Stepping back slightly, Beverly said, “Computer, rearrange images. Display what is known of Charlotte Riker’s brain scans currently in progress and compare with uploaded images of Commander Riker’s brain.”  
Two images appeared side-by-side. Beverly stepped closer, peering at them intently. “Computer…” she said quietly. “Theorise. If Commander has psionic ability and his daughter has a strong telepathic/empathic ability what would be required to create any psionic connection between them, given the immature age of Charlotte Riker?”  
“The scan of Charlotte Riker’s brain, although incomplete, shows recent hyper-activity in the paracortex. That suggests it is possible that she has been generating psilosynine to use as a connector. It is noted her metaconscious has been suppressed. She has, at present, no metaphysical boundaries to protect her from unwanted telepathic transmissions. The most likely cause for this is her immaturity.”  
Tapping her teeth again as she pondered the information, Beverly said, softly, “Okay. But what would be required of Commander Riker? A human possessing modest psionic ability shouldn’t be able to function telepathically at this level. If we accept his Triune Brian is responsible and as a consequence he is somehow manufacturing psilosynine, could that be how he has managed to do this…have this…psionic connection with his daughter.”   
Unable to comply. Insufficient data.”  
“Theorise!”  
“Without a precedent, even theorising cannot be attempted. All the known medical texts pertaining to Betazoids, Betazoid/human hybrids, humans and the psionic abilities or lack thereof of said hybrid infants and humans has not been documented well enough. I have nothing on which to base any theories.”  
“We have.” The appearance of the text startled Beverly and she took a second or two to realise the implications.  
“You do?” she said both hopefully and cautiously.  
“Yes. While the infant’s paracortex seems well developed, an apparent oddity given her immature state, we have noted she too has high levels of psilosynine. That added to the conspicuous activity in the engrams of both father and daughter…”  
“Wait!” said Beverly curtly. “I know about Commander Riker’s engram activity, but our scans of his daughter haven’t showed any activity in that area. You can access our scans…use your technology to do what we cannot…and see the one in progress?”  
“Yes.”  
“Show me.”  
The new image appeared and Beverly gaped. “So many! And they’re all active!” Frowning deeply, Beverly said, “Show me the engrams in Riker’s brain alongside his daughter’s.”  
This was done and Beverly snorted. “Okay, I have a theory.”  
“Yes?”  
“The chemicals you’re responsible for…the ones you’re trying to remove from Riker’s brain. What if they’re providing the bridge and the formation and activation of these…” she waved at the images. “…phenomena in father and daughter?”  
“But, Beverly, the infant should not be exhibiting any propensity for these abilities at her age. And even then, as a hybrid, she should not possess both empathic and telepathic abilities. And as for Commander Riker, how is it that he, as a human be able to have psionic ability this powerful? We do not understand. These changes, even if our chemicals were responsible, should not have been able to physically occur.”  
Thinking hard, Beverly shrugged. “From what I know of Riker’s psionic connection to his late partner…”  
“Late?”  
“Deceased.” Beverly sighed with remember sadness.  
“Their connection came about due to a very strong emotional bond. His late partner, Counsellor Deanna Troi was a very dear friend of mine and she’d told me that such bonds between Betazoids (including Betazoid hybrids) and non-Betazoids is possible provided the emotional quotient was strong enough. I think you’re underestimating both the power of Betazoids’ psionic abilities and the ability of the human brain to adapt, at least to a point. You recall I explained that both the Triune Brain and engrams were very old, genetically inherited evolutionary hold overs?” Beverly shrugged. “Well it seems to me that Charlotte…Riker’s daughter, has somehow inherited the psionic connection to her father from her mother and once exposed to him while he had within his brain your chemicals…it set in motion the process of linkage, albeit greatly accelerated…and very powerful.”  
“How…powerful was the Commander’s psionic link with his late partner?”  
“As profound as was possible under the circumstances. In fact knowing what I do now, it’s my belief that had Counsellor Troi lived, a three-way psionic link would’ve developed and probably, with age, only strengthened. Especially once Charlotte reached puberty, which is when Betazoids are supposed to begin to exhibit and be taught how to utilise their abilities.”  
“Then would not the logical conclusion be that if we can successfully rid Commander of the excess psilosynine; that should allow us to remove our chemicals from his brain?”  
“I guess.” shrugged Beverly. “But I’m worried about the after-effects.”  
“Why?”  
Gesturing to the images on the screen, Beverly sighed. “Removing both the psilosynine and your chemicals is s step in the right direction, but what can be done to return Riker’s brain to normal? His engrams aren’t supposed to activate unless required and as for the Triune Brain…I can’t even begin to guess at what might happen if he’s left with that functioning as it is now. We, that is the medical community, simply don’t know enough about it.”  
There was a long hiatus before new text appeared. “Now that we know more, we feel we can address these concerns. However, it is most likely Commander Riker is going to be left with his ability to maintain a strong psionic link to his infant…unless you can do something to return her to a more…natural state appropriate for her stage of development.”  
Casting a look over at the sleeping baby, Beverly sighed. “Well,” she said with more confidence than she felt. “We’ll do what we can here.”  
“Very well. We will be in contact again soon.”  
Knowing the interface was over; Beverly went back to Alyssa and offered a tired smile. “I’ll take over here. You go back to Charlotte, oversee the scans. If you see anything…no matter how small…that you think is odd, don’t wait for the computer’s report, you tell me.”  
“Yes, Doctor.”  
Turning to Patrick Adams, Beverly’s smile grew a little. “Now then Counsellor, let’s see what your scans say.”

 

 

Jean-Luc couldn’t remember ever feeling so mentally fatigued. He was walking with his equally weary brother and the adviser back to the living area and it was all Jean-Luc could do to focus enough thought on putting one foot in front of the other.  
He barely noticed when gentle hands stopped his forward movement and eased him into a sitting position on a bed. The action of turning, swinging his legs up and placing his head on the pillow was automatic, but no less welcomed. As his eyes drifted closed, he had just enough control to think, “I hope Javier isn’t too far away.” Before his mind simply closed down.  
Javier seemed to sag once Jean-Luc succumbed to deep sleep. The adviser had to all but carry the man to his bedroom arranging him comfortably just as his one entered the room. Both beings glowed brilliantly and the adviser gestured, “The conscience is well, merely mentally exhausted. With sleep, he will be restored.”  
“How much sleep?”  
“We do not know. It could be relatively short time, or many, many hours. They will know when it is time to waken.”  
The two beings stood with their hands by their sides, both contemplating the sleeping human. The one sighed; lifting her hands to say, “I have learned much about him. He is different now.”  
“He too has learned. We can only hope his…difference will not affect his ability to function as he is intended…for the people.”  
“I do not see how we can do anything if it does not. Who is to say what all this new information he has learned about his origins…and his connection to his brother will do?”  
The adviser sighed. “It is a vexing problem. If I send the procurers out now…prematurely…it will compromise his position as well as compel him to eventually step aside too early. But he knows, unless he is willing to leave you and your children, which is unthinkable, he is forced to stay, no matter what his…feelings…are on the subject. As much as he may wish to explore his new-found knowledge about himself, the simple fact is he cannot. And it will only be worse for him if he has to step aside before his time to make way for the new conscience. We have never had a situation where a former conscience has survived for more than a year or two before the natural conclusion. But this conscience...your one…has many, many years ahead of him yet.”  
The female dimmed slightly. “I have been giving this some thought. Would it not be possible to...alter us…my children and me…to be able to leave?”  
His arms thrust out in front of him, the adviser shouted, “Leave?! Never! Our people never leave!”  
Bowing her head and lowering her hands below her waist, the female gestured meekly, “But our ships…”  
“Are staffed by those who are bound to the essence of their ship! You know this!”  
The adviser lowered his hands and sighed deeply. “I do understand your dilemma, I…we…share it, but you must put aside any thought of leaving. It is simply not possible. I am sorry.”  
“Then…” the female dimmed further, almost to the point where she no longer glowed. “…in the event he does decide to leave…”  
The adviser finished her sentence. “…then you and your children will be facing the conclusion.”  
Both beings were silent for a time, the stillness of the room at odds with the frenetic annihilation of the ice chunks driven against the outside of the dark windows.  
“I have lost him either way. He is not my one any more. He is Javier Picard. Whether or not we can go forward…still be as we were…” she sighed. Lifting her head, the adviser saw her thick gel-like tears. “I am thinking of the people as well. We will all lose him.”  
“The conclusion may be the only answer if he becomes…reluctant to serve.”   
The female was surprised when the adviser gently took her hand. “I have known the conscience for most of my life. It is my belief he will overcome this and once again take his rightful place as our conscience. And I do not believe it will be the knowledge of a premature conclusion that will sway him. It will be his love. His love for you, his children, but most of all, his love for his people. He is not Javier Picard. He is the conscience!”  
The adviser left then and the female lay down beside her one, draping one arm over his body. Her tears made red blotches on the skin of his shoulder.

 

Beverly closed her eyes and sighed. “No, I can’t believe this.”   
Adams was no empath…or telepath for that matter, but he didn’t need to be. Beverly’s expression, though well-hidden was easily seen by the trained counsellor. Shoving his fear down, he braced himself and said with quiet authority, “What is it?”  
Knowing nothing but the plain truth would do, Beverly locked her eyes with his and said with the same steadfast honesty, “A Karralyn cestode.”  
Squinting, Adams repeated uncomprehendingly, “A Karralyn cestode? Okay, I know what a cestode is…it’s an intestinal worm, but why does the word Karralyn give your eyes a look of deep concern?”  
“Because…” sighed Beverly, rubbing her forehead. “…a Karralyn cestode has the potential to kill you.”  
“Oh.” said a stunned counsellor. He then regrouped. “You say it has the potential. What can you do?”  
“Normally, provided we find it in time, it’s a reasonably straightforward procedure to remove it. However…”  
Now growing afraid to ask, Adams parroted, “…however…?”  
“First we have to find it.” Hitching her hip to sit sideways besides the counsellor, who was sitting on the biobed with his large, fat legs dangling, Beverly swung the monitor so he could see it.  
“What do you see?”  
He peered, one of his hands wiping at the ever-present sweat. He shrugged. “Ah…nothing.”  
“Exactly.” There was a hint of exasperation in Beverly’s voice. “This parasite is remarkable, counsellor. It has the ability, on sensing the presence of the scanning procedure, to mask itself, in effect, becoming invisible…see through. And thus undetectable. This particular helminth can lie dormant for a very long time…years sometimes.”  
Nodding slowly, Adams said thoughtfully, “I began to lose my appetite and gain weight at about the same time maybe…two years ago?”  
Nodding too, Beverly agreed. “Makes sense.”  
“So what happens?” he looked at the monitor again. “If it’s still undetectable to your scanners, how do you know I have it?”  
Beverly’s smile was indulgent. “Well, your symptoms…” she gestured to his body. “Your increasing weight gain, the copious sweating…” Her smile became sympathetic. “Your body is doing what it can to kill the invader. The weight gain is almost all fluid and the perspiration is due to a rise in your core temperature, again your body trying to kill the parasite. The excess fluid you’re carrying is also being excreted through the pores of your skin, not just your sweat glands. Add all that up, and I had a fair idea where to look.”   
“But you said it was invisible.”  
“And it is.”  
“So?”  
Placing her hand on his wide forearm, Beverly tried to ignore the feeling of the damp material. “Something’s changed, Patrick, something that has made your passenger’s presence obvious.”  
“My worsening…symptoms?”  
Nodding, Beverly’s voice was gentle. “Yes, but something else as well.”  
“What?”  
“It’s gone through its breeding phase, Patrick.”  
Adams swallowed, his Adam’s apple hidden in his chins. His voice was a little high and sweat ran freely down his face. “Breeding?”  
“Yes.” Beverly altered the images on the monitor and gently directed Adam’s eyes back to the screen. His eyes widened. “Are those…?” He felt sick.  
“Eggs. Approximately five hundred. Unlike the hermaphrodite parent, the eggs cannot mask themselves. They’re difficult to identify, but as you can see the computer has picked up the outline of the actual outer shells.”  
“Why? Why did it wait so long to breed? Did it have to mature?”  
“No. Although we don’t come across these particular helminths all that often, from what we know of them, as soon as they reach a certain size, they can activate their reproduction process. But what triggers it…we don’t know. They reach the adult size very quickly, within two months of ingestion.”  
“Ingestion? I ate the…eggs?”  
“Drank, more likely. I’ve been looking at your file. Your last posting? The Melbourne? You went down to a Federation colony to counsel some of the inhabitants on Balkora III, they’d been struggling with the constant stress of being on the Federation/Cardassian border.”  
Adams nodded, remembering. “Yes…they were having replicator problems and the water was being brought in from a local river and treated.”  
“Yes. And in that water was the microscopic eggs. The young that are about to hatch inside you will excrete eggs in the thousands. And no matter what’s been done to the water, they’re impervious.”  
“So…?”  
“…So, we found out about the eggs in the water on all the M class planets in the Balkora System about eight months ago.”  
“But, Doctor Crusher…if you knew…?”  
Beverly had the good grace to look embarrassed. “To be honest, Counsellor…yes, I did notice your weight gain and the perspiration and yes, I should’ve done something a lot sooner, but your symptoms aren’t exclusively those of a Karralyn infestation. Quite apart from an actual medical problem, you may have simply caused your symptoms yourself with mere over-indulgence in the wrong foods and not exercising. It’s rare, but it does happen and, as a medical professional, sometimes I have to sit back and wait. Of course if not me, then someone in my profession should have said something sooner…but counsellor, there comes a time when people have to take responsibility for their own health. And before you ask…yes, the computer should’ve flagged your file as you having been exposed to a potentially dangerous medical situation. I can’t tell you why that didn’t happen…” Beverly shrugged. “Put it down to snafu. Sometimes the transfer of records from ship-to-ship doesn’t take place quite as smoothly as it should. Bits can and do go missing.”  
The counsellor sighed. “Well, whatever. I’ve got this…worm…and now it’s bred and I’m full of eggs, and about to be host to thousands more. So that brings us back to the potential to kill me. Care to elaborate?”  
“Once the eggs hatch, the young attach themselves to the walls of your large intestine. There they suck your blood. Depending on the age and health of the host, death can occur within as little as three weeks. The young’s eggs pass out of the host well before death, leaving the quickly maturing young to continue to feed on the decomposing corpse. If close to water, and having eaten all available organic matter, the now adult helminths will make their way into the water and go through another breeding phase, thus infecting the water. If no water is close enough, they can bury themselves and enter a dormant state and await either a flood or a predator, as being consumed will be just as effective in spreading the eggs as actually excreting them. In the new host, the cycle begins again.”  
“Now thoroughly disgusted and scared, Adams voice quavered as he asked, “…so you can cure me?”  
“Yes! Definitely. Also we’re going to have to treat the ship’s biowaste elimination process system as there’ll be eggs in there and anyone you’ve shared bodily fluids with will have to come in to sickbay for treatment.”  
Adams blushed and Beverly squeezed his shoulder. “It’s not too bad, Patrick. We’ll be giving you a medication that’ll kill the adult, and the young. But although the medication with assist in breaking down the…matter of the cestodes, passing them and the eggs, although small, will be a little…uncomfortable.”  
Adams blanched and closed his eyes. Beverly’s soft voice went on and he began to wish she’d stop. “Of course you’ll be confined to sickbay as we’re going to have to monitor you and dispose of the…products…very carefully. Even dead these creatures are dangerous.”  
He nodded, his eyes still closed.  
“Now I’m going to set things up before you get your first course of the medication. While I’m busy, I want you to give one of my staff a list of all your…partners…you’ve had since you drank the water on Balkora III.”  
“Even while I was on the Melbourne?”  
“Yes.”  
His eyes were still closed when Beverly left. The next voice he heard was a male asking some very embarrassing questions. Patrick kept his eyes firmly shut.

Jean-Luc had no idea how long he’d slept, but he felt refreshed once he woke. He stretched and even though his eyes were closed, he knew his twin was near.  
“Je ne sais pas quelle heure, il est, mais bon martin se sent en quelque sorte approprié.”  
The man leaning in the open door had a knowing smile on his face. “Well, I do not know what time it is either, but like you, perhaps good morning is appropriate.”  
Swinging his legs around, Jean-Luc sat on the bed, absently running his hand over his stubbled chin. His brother gave a short jerk with his head.  
“Come, Jean-Luc. I will take you to my sale de bain. There you can laver, toilettes et raser.”  
As Jean-Luc got to his feet and frowned down at his nakedness, before looking pointedly at his brother’s clothed form. Grinning, Javier pointed silently to the foot of the bed. There, partially hidden by the covers Jean-Luc had thrown back, was a uniform, complete with rank pips and communicator. Whether or not it was the original, the captain couldn’t say. Lying on top was a robe. Having donned the robe and gathering his clothing, Jean-Luc followed his brother further into the living area until he was directed into a bathroom. It was a muted light blue and the floor covering, a darker blue, was soft. When he was ready, Jean-Luc stepped into what he presumed was the shower stall and as soon as the door closed, it activated, but although whatever the substance was, it was comfortably hot and seemed to be wet…he had the distinct impression it wasn’t water. It flowed, there was no aroma but it was pale green and risking a tentative taste, he found it surprisingly sweet. But it was slightly too thick. No, he decided, not water.  
Not tarrying, he found if he rubbed his hands over his body a soft, fine lather formed. He quickly washed and soon found himself standing with a towel around his waist looking down at a shelf with some unidentified, small devices on it. He was just picking one up when a soft knock at the door caused him to respond quietly, “Come.”  
Javier entered and smiled down at the devices. “I thought you might appreciate some assistance.”  
Jean-Luc grinned. For some reason, Jean-Luc felt happy, as if he was years younger and carefree. And his brother’s proximity amplified this feeling. Shaking his head, Jean-Luc said ruefully, “You feel it too, don’t you?”  
Javier’s grin increased. “La joie de vivre? Oui, Jean-Luc. I feel it too.”  
Sighing, Jean-Luc placed a fraternal hand on Javier’s shoulder. “I’ve heard that phrase so many times, Javier. ‘The joy of life.’ I’ve experienced it, indeed, Beverly has brought it to me in such a way I never thought possible…but this…toi et moi…you and me…it’s different…like…”  
“…rien d′autre tu as jamais connu?”  
“Oui.” Smiled Jean-Luc. “Exactly. Like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.”  
Javier’s eyes danced with delight. He shrugged, one eyebrow raised. “Perhaps, Jean-Luc we simply possess a certain…je ne sais quoi.”  
Jean-Luc’s laugh was a hearty one. His eyes twinkling, he nudged Javier, his grin a devilish one.  
“So many clichés, Javier. Je ne sais quoi?” he snorted and shook his head. Let’s not be too stereotypical.”  
Frowning slightly, Javier picked up one of the small devices and held it up. Jean-Luc quietened and gave his twin his attention.  
“I am not sure I understand either the word…stereotypical or its context, but I gather it is not a good thing?”  
Putting the device in Jean-Luc’s hand then directing that hand to his face, Jean-Luc’s eyebrows rose as the device activated automatically and quickly began to remove the stubble. Javier took his hand away and watched in silence as his brother shaved. Pulling his lower jaw to one side and opening his mouth a little, Jean-Luc managed to say, “Being stereotyped isn’t bad per se, but it can be seen as limiting and in the wrong context, derogatory. Generally speaking, it’s an oversimplified, standardised image or perception of a person or group.”   
His shave complete, Jean-Luc ran a hand over his now silky-smooth skin, nodding his impressive appreciation. “Races, religions, even genders on Earth were often stereotyped in the past and rarely was it helpful or a successful way of maintaining friendly relations.”  
“Then the question must be asked. Pourquoi le faire?”  
Jean-Luc sighed. “Why do it indeed. You know, we have to be constantly vigilant, Javier. It’s so easy to stereotype beings. Take the Ferengi, for instance. Immediately one thinks of avarice, obsession with the accumulation of wealth at all costs…but I have known some fine Ferengi, scientists, fellow Starfleet members…” he sighed again. “There is an old Earth saying about giving a dog a bad name.”  
To Javier’s raised eyebrow, Jean-Luc chuckled and shook his head. “It simply means that once a reputation is gained, it is very hard to shake.”  
Jean-Luc’s mood sobered as he recalled his conversations with Beverly about his own reputation. Javier sensed the shift in his brother’s mood and squeezed his shoulder.  
“Finish here, Jean-Luc, et on peut rejoinder ma famille pour le petit déjeuner.”  
The captain smiled his thanks. “I would love to join your family for breakfast. As a matter of fact, j′ai faim!”  
Laughing, Javier left the bathroom, saying over his shoulder, “No more hungry than me…big brother. Alors dépêchez!”  
“Hmph!” Jean-Luc snorted with disgruntled good humour as he began to dress. “Hurry up, indeed!”

 

The four healers at their console each bowed their heads reverently. One, a female lifted her hands. “The essence has seen fit to restore him.”  
“Yes.” agreed the female by her side. “He is indeed fortunate.” With a wave of her hand, an image of Will’s brain appeared. “Although his Triune brain is still active, I do not believe it will interfere in his brain function. As his engrams have reverted back to their natural state, I do not see why this…” She gestured to the image. “…lesser activity should pose any significant problems.”  
The male, a little taller than the rest, raised his hands. “Yes, I believe you are correct, but everything rests on whether or not Beverly can address the over-activity in the infant’s brain, because if she cannot, Riker cannot be returned to his ship. Even with our chemicals and the psilosynine removed, if he were to be in contact with his child as she is at present, the psilosynine he would immediately begin to reproduce may well put him back in the same mentally unbalanced state as he was previously. Even without the presence of our chemicals.”  
“Indeed,” his companion nodded. “We must consider his latent psionic ability. It would surely reactivate at an unacceptable level if he were to be exposed to his child as she is now.”  
The male sighed, bowing his head and lowering his hands. “I will contact Beverly.”  
Again two of the other three healers left the booth. The remaining being, the female he’d had support from previously, lifted her hands, but only to the height of her prominent hips. “We have taken an irrevocable step. Once could be considered imperative, given the circumstances, but to do it again?”  
“I know.” he sighed deeply. “Although I have stated I am willing to be accountable for my actions, I regret I have involved you.”  
Bowing her head, the female glowed brightly and gestured, “That is not your burden to bear. I knew what I was doing when I chose to stay. I may not agree with what you have done…what you chose on your own to do, but as a healer I could not ignore the fact that what you were doing was right. Not in accordance with our peoples’ way, but right, nonetheless.”  
“You honour me.”  
She shook her head and lifted her hands a little higher. “No,” she demurred. “The essence has honoured you. By restoring Riker, the essence has bestowed its gift. Had you not done what you did in initiating contact with Beverly and isolating the problems, the essence could not have done its work. I can only view that as tacit approval of what you have done. Whether or not the others agree…”she sighed, her hands dropping. “…I cannot say. But if you are censured or even made ready for the conclusion, then I will join you and I will do so with an open heart and mind, knowing that you…we…did what was right.”   
The male stretched his arms out, the female mirroring him until their fingers met. The implied trust, the intimacy of the gesture was profound, certainly imparting more than any words could possibly do justice.  
While the healers were communing, Will’s eyes opened. At first he was confused, not knowing where he was or how he got there, but as his brain came online so did his memory, at least to a point. He frowned, trying to recover what he’d lost. Shivering slightly in his naked state in the cold room, he sat up slowly, swinging until he was seated sideways. Looking around, he could see the healers through the clear wall of the booth.  
“Hey?” He called out experimentally. Their hands immediately dropped and, as one being stayed in the booth, manipulating the floating controls, the other, the male went to Will. In his hand he had a small screen. Will took it, his expression wary.  
“How do you feel, Commander?”  
“Okay…but I think I’m missing some memories.”  
“What is the last thing you remember?”  
Will’s frown was a deep one. “Um…” he squinted. “…I was on the bridge…I think I was talking to LaForge. We were going to…”  
He realised what he was about to say and shut his mouth. The text that appeared on the screen made him scowl.  
“We were aware of what you planned to do with the shaft of infrared light, Commander Riker. We would not have allowed that to occur.”  
He only kept his anger in check with a mighty effort. Because of his memory loss, he didn’t grasp the fact he had reverted to his usual behaviour.   
“I see.” He said coldly. “Then can you tell me how I came to be here? And what’s been done to me?”  
“Of course, Commander.”  
In a few minutes, as Will read the text, the healer told him of everything that had taken place. He left out nothing including his; and by extension his colleague’s, circumvention of their peoples’ ways. It took several minutes for Will to absorb all that information and quell his alarm.  
“How is my daughter?”  
“We were just about to ask that same question of Beverly when you woke. Would you like to be with us when we interface with her?”   
Sliding off the bed, Will took two steps before he came to an abrupt halt. Looking down at his naked body, he said, doing his best to hide his discomfort, “Ah…some clothing would be nice.”  
As the healer bowed and began to walk to the booth, Will clarified, “Something warm?”  
He cast a look at the man and had to grin. “Of course, Commander. You will soon be wrapped up, not only warm, but no longer a distraction to the other healers.”  
Beverly had finished with Adams and had gone back to join Alyssa Ogawa with the baby. The scans on Charlotte’s brain were almost complete and so far she was stumped. When the summons came from a staff member to respond to the aliens she was relieved, not only as she needed help with treating Charlotte, but she was desperate for any news of Jean-Luc.  
Making sure Charlotte was still well asleep, the twilight sedation even now still doing its job; Beverly hurried to the large screen that took up nearly all of one wall. On seeing her friend, Beverly’s reaction was one of heartfelt delight. “Will!”  
“Hi, Beverly.” He forestalled any further greetings by saying urgently, “How’s Charlotte?”  
Beverly too had to curtail her need to enquire after her husband. She offered a small, but warm smile. “She’s fine…for now.”  
“Meaning what?”  
Beverly’s smile faded and she sighed. “She’s sedated, Will…”   
The big man’s expression was grim. “Sedated?!”  
Holding up one hand, Beverly kept her tone placatory. “It’s okay! It’s a very light paediatric sedation, Will, more like natural sleep than a drugged state.”  
“Okay, but why has she had to be sedated?”  
Casting a look at the alien healer standing beside the agitated man, Beverly sent a silent request for assistance. The healer placed a gentle hand on Will’s shoulder. His first reaction was to shrug it off, but he quelled it to turn his head, dragging his eyes away from Beverly. “What?” he barked curtly.  
The healer inclined his head towards the screen Will still held in his hand.  
“Your child has had a difficult time, Commander. Once you were taken from your ship, she became…distressed. In order to first identify the reason for her behaviour then find a way to help her, Beverly had no option but to sedate her.”  
Letting out a forceful breath of frustration, Will turned back to the floating screen.  
“So, is that what happened? Have you identified the problem and fixed it?”  
“Not exactly.” Beverly said reluctantly. “In fact I’m glad contact has been re-established. I need some help.”  
The healer, now joined by the female, lifted his hands higher and gestured, “How can we be of assistance, Beverly?”  
“Access the scans…they’re complete now.”  
The image of Beverly’s face vanished to be replaced by an equally detailed image of Charlotte’s brain, the relevant areas highlighted and enlarged and with the Enterprise’s computer’s analysis appearing as slowly scrolling text down one side. With a few graceful gestures, the healer moved the image to allow an inset of Beverly.  
In silence the two healers studied the image, obviously waiting for something. It was Will whose short patience made him say curtly, “What’s going on?! Why aren’t you doing something?”  
Contrapuntal to Will’s impatience, the placid reply from the female made Will glower at her.  
“We are awaiting the opinion of the essence. Now that we are familiar with the human brain and the brain of the hybrid Betazoid/human as it has been affected by our chemicals, the essence can find a way to restore your child to a more…natural state.”  
“That’s a little cryptic, isn’t it?” snapped an increasingly alarmed and irritated Will. It was Beverly who poured oil on troubled waters.  
“What they mean is Will, like you, Charlotte might not be able to be…put back the way she was.” Will’s mouth opened as his face suffused with angry blood.   
“Hold on!” Said Beverly sharply, both her hands raised. “It’s not as bad as you think. The aliens can and will help, but neither they nor me can restore either of you to the way you were, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing.”   
Will’s narrowed eyes clearly showed his scepticism, but he trusted Beverly, so he kept his outrage to himself and allowed Beverly to continue uninterrupted.  
“You must’ve noticed a…connection…with Charlotte…a connection much like the one you shared with Deanna?”  
Will nodded, his expression still dark.  
“Well, because of the chemicals you had in your brain, some alien, some you’d made yourself, somehow a kind of psionic bridge was created. It made Charlotte’s paracortex activate in a way it shouldn’t, not only because she’s way too young, but as only one quarter Betazoid, she shouldn’t possess the telepathic ability she demonstrated. And Will….neither should you. Even with your latent psionic ability, it’s too limited, Will.”  
“So what does all this mean? Is Charlotte going to be all right?” Will was calmer now, but no less deeply alarmed.  
It was the female healer who answered. “All right is a relative term, Commander. We feel you will both function normally, indeed apart from a residual ability to…be connected to your child…psionically…albeit only very mildly, at least until she reaches puberty, we doubt you will notice any difference.”  
“But..?” Will was unconvinced. He cast a look at Beverly and his suspicions were confirmed. She shrugged as the healer continued.   
“You and your daughter have been irrevocably changed. Your brains will now function differently than they did before...but we stress, with absolutely no detriment to either of you.”  
Beverly took up the discourse. “Will, it’s like this. Apart from the very mild psionic connection you’d already noticed between you and Charlotte, nothing’s going to change. Now isn’t it worth having that bridge…that connection with her? And like the healer said, once Charlotte reaches puberty, the link will probably get stronger. As a parent, I know that’s a plus!”   
“I guess,” sighed Will, running his hand through his hair. “it’s just…”  
“Knowing your brain and Charlotte’s brain are…different now?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Well,” smiled Beverly. “I can tell you that nothing’s actually changed…not structurally at least. Everything’s as it was, it’s just that some areas which should be…quiet…are now active. That’s all.”  
He smiled for the first time, a slight twinkle in his eyes. “That’s all?”  
Chuckling, Beverly shrugged. “It could’ve been a hell of a lot worse.”  
“Yeah. So when can I come back?”  
The male gestured. “Soon, Commander. The essence is at work. Allow time for it to bestow its blessing.”  
Seeing her opportunity, Beverly said quietly, “Tell me about my husband.”

 

“And I say he sounds jaune.” Jolie said mildly, in stark contrast to Forte L′orange’s loud “Non! Bleu, definitely bleu.”  
“Well, Jean-Luc said placatingly, I like both yellow and blue.”  
Long nez gave his uncle an amused look and said, “Mais quel est votre préfréré?”  
Sitting back and wiping his mouth with his serviette to cover his smile, Jean-Luc cleared his throat and said, “Neither yellow nor blue are my favourite.” Robuste was about to ask the obvious, but Jean-Luc beat him to it.  
“Vert émeraude.”  
“Emerald green?” Javier said curiously.  
“Yes.” Jean-Luc replied. “An emerald is a precious stone from Earth. It’s green in colour and can vary from light to very dark green but traditionally it is a deep, lustrous green that has depth and clarity.” He sighed and offered a wistful smile. “Our maman had a necklace, an heirloom passed down through her family for many, many years that had, as its centre piece, a lovely emerald. It’s probably why I like the colour so much.”  
“And where is it now…?”  
Jean-Luc didn’t get to answer as the adviser came into the room. Javier’s eyes went straight to his sleeve screen.  
“A situation has developed that requires you adjudication.”  
“Now?” said a clearly annoyed conscience. “We…” he gestured to Jean-Luc, “…have not yet completed our…education.”  
“I am aware of that and I apologise for the interruption, but this is a matter of some importance.”  
Knowing his old friend wouldn’t have come to him had it not been important made Javier regret his churlish reaction. Rising from the table, he looked first at his one, then his children and lastly at his brother. “Please, wait until I return. I cannot say how long I will be gone, but perhaps you can all spend the time learning more about each other.”  
All eyes were on Javier as he left the room with his adviser.

 

The startled yelp from one of her nurses had Beverly rush to Charlotte’s biobed. A shaft of bright light was spearing down, right through the ceiling and bathing her head in its brilliance.  
With gentle shooing gestures, Beverly said quietly, “Stand back, everybody.”  
Alyssa Ogawa sidled over to her boss and said sotto voce, “Do you know what’s happening?”  
Equally quietly, Beverly replied, “I think so. That…” he inclined her head towards the light, “…is what the aliens call the essence. It’s a long story, and one I’m not able to tell you, but rest assured, little Charlotte is in no danger. Quite the contrary. If I’m right, once the light extinguishes, she will be…restored.”  
The Asian woman frowned, her almond-shaped eyes watching the extraordinary phenomena.   
“You say, restored, Doctor. What, exactly, do you mean by that?”  
Beverly sighed and gave a one-shoulder shrug. “I can’t be certain, but from what I know her brain should be re-set. Her psionic connection with her father will remain, but much muted and once she reaches puberty it’ll probably increase, but that’s something Commander Riker’s going to have to deal with. For now…” Beverly smiled. “…that little girl is going to grow up with a unique connection with her daddy.”

“That’s so sweet, considering Commander Riker shared a psionic connection with Counsellor Troi.” Alyssa sighed wistfully.  
“Yes, it is.”  
“And do you know how long it will take to…”  
Everyone gasped softly as the light suddenly vanished. Charlotte began to kick and wave her arms before her black eyes opened. She burbled and then smiled.  
“Alyssa,” said a happy Beverly. “Would you get a bottle of warm formula for our little patient? I think if I feed her while we run a quick neurological scan, focused on her paracortex only, she might lie still, at least she might not mind the head restraint.”  
While the doctor went to the replicator, Beverly picked the baby up and quickly changed her. Gentle hands laid her back down and eased the softly padded paediatric halo around her head. As Beverly’d predicted; Charlotte was much more interested in her bottle than the scan. In fact the scan was completed before she’d finished her feed.  
Freed from the medical paraphernalia, Beverly held the little girl in her arms while reading through the results. Alyssa didn’t have to ask, Beverly’s riant expression said more than any words could.  
The Asian doctor ran her fingers through Charlotte’s reinstated natural, soft, dark brown hair. “Is it my imagination, Doctor or is she…calmer?”  
“That’s a very astute observation, Alyssa. I think we’ve all become accustomed to the slow incremental deterioration in Charlotte. As the psionic link with her father grew, so did her paracortex activate correspondingly and then when Commander Riker was returned from the planet with not only his naturally produced psilosynine saturating his brain, but with the alien chemical present too…the resulting psionic chaos was inevitable, I suppose.” Beverly sighed, rubbing her hand up and down Charlotte’s back. “It would’ve been harder on Charlotte though. The Commander was mentally disturbed; he doesn’t actually remember his abnormal behaviour, but Charlotte? She may not remember it, but as an infant she couldn’t even process what was happening to her at the time. I shudder to think what this poor little girl went through. It must’ve been very frightening at times.”  
“Hmm,” agreed Alyssa. “So does this mean Commander Riker will soon return?”  
“Oh, I think so. There’s no reason why he shouldn’t. In fact…” Still with Charlotte in her arms, Beverly went back to the large screen. “Can you hear me?”  
The red headed doctor grinned as text scrolled. “Yes, Beverly. We can hear you.”  
“Is Commander Riker still with you?”  
“Yes, he is here.”  
Placing a gentle kiss atop Charlotte’s head, Beverly said, “Then tell him he can come home.”  
“We have been analysing the data, Beverly. The essence has indeed bestowed its gift. The organic substance we placed in Commander Riker’s brain to protect him once we had removed our chemicals with soon attenuate and be absorbed. He is ready to return now.”  
Beverly opened her mouth to say more when she jumped as two large hands insinuated themselves under hers, Will’s voice saying brokenly, “Daddy’s here, my little Imzadi. Come to daddy.”  
Will was standing next to Beverly, tears in his eyes. The call from the bridge almost went unnoticed. “Commander Riker? Are you all right, sir?”  
It was then that everyone realised the red alert siren was blaring and the light strips were flashing red. Will swallowed his turbulent emotions to say, “Cancel red alert! Are we back up?”  
“Yes, Commander. Everything came back on line at the same time the computer registered your return, sir.”  
Will and Beverly shared a knowing smile.  
“Orders, Commander?”  
“Nothing yet. I’ll be up there soon. In the meantime, I want the ship staffed in the standard roster, all stations manned.”  
“Aye, sir. Bridge out.”  
“I’ve got a lot of catching up to do, Beverly, so…” he leaned in and pecked her on her cheek. “…thank you.”  
As he turned to leave, Beverly plucked the hem of his shirt. He looked over his shoulder, his mild impatience clear. Beverly raised one eyebrow. “You might want to get changed first.”  
Realisation dawned and Will grimaced. “Oh…yeah. Not exactly Starfleet issue.”  
He was on the move again, headed for the door. As he left, Beverly heard him summoning a sitter.  
A lot had happened to Doctor Alyssa Ogawa in the last two years. She’d married her long term boyfriend, Lieutenant Andrew Powell, obtained sponsorship from Beverly and worked damned hard, even during her first pregnancy and throughout her medical career, she’d seen quite a bit, but assisting Counsellor Patrick Adams to expel the remnants of his infestation wasn’t on her list of highlights.  
The poor man was seated on a special commode, its waste holder configured for maximum secure containment, which meant a certain amount of suction was used to maintain a seal between the skin of Adams’s backside and the rim of the seat.  
Medication had reduced the remains of the worms and softened the egg shells, but even so, the process of expulsion was painful and protracted.  
She stood by the copiously sweating man, wiping his face with a cool, moist cloth. The odour was very unpleasant and although he’d had medication to control the worst of his cramps, with each wave he’d bend slightly forward, groaning softly, both people finding the accompanying noisy, explosive splatter distasteful.  
The separate unit they were in was hermetically sealed and the only communication with the outside was via a wall-mounted, voice-activated intercom. Alyssa was expecting it when Beverly’s voice came through.  
“So, how we doing?”  
Adams groaned softly and Alyssa sighed. “We’re getting there, Doctor. The scans show only a few more shell fragments and perhaps a kilo more of cestode particulate matter to be expelled.”  
“Good. The computer’s been telling us the medication has done a good job, all the excreted matter is dormant. Once everything has been expelled and the vaccination given, the elimination protocol can commence.”  
Adams lifted his head, swallowing and saying weakly, “Vaccination?”  
“Yes,” Alyssa said sympathetically while wiping his face again. “Once a human has suffered a Karralyn infestation, the immune system will be compromised for some time. To offset this, we administer a broad-spectrum vaccination. It’ll hold the fort, so to speak, until your body reasserts its normal immune functions. But…” Alyssa smiled to ease the man’s worry. “…no away missions until your scans show you’re properly and completely protected.”  
The obese man managed a smile just as another cramp hit. He clenched his teeth and gasped as another jet of lumpy liquid fired from his body. Afterwards he snorted as Doctor Ogawa wiped his face. “If I never go on another away mission, I’ll be a happy man.”  
“Well then,” there was a twinkle in Alyssa’s eyes. “You’ll have plenty of time to get in shape and adopt a new eating regime.”  
His eyebrows rose. “I hadn’t thought of that. How long will it take to lose all this weight?”  
“Actually, faster than you might think. You’re carrying an enormous amount of fluid. We’ll be giving you very gentle diuretics to help your body rid itself of it and it’ll take a while for your thermostat to reset itself, but really, with proper food and ample exercise…”  
“So I’ve got a bit of work to…” Another cramp bit and he groaned softly. Alyssa patted his shoulder, saying, “One thing at a time, Patrick, one thing at a time.”

 

Conversation at the table had trickled to a halt. The children had picked up on the underlying unease their mother was experiencing and it put a pall over the gathering. Eventually Jean-Luc said quietly, “You are still unsure about me, aren’t you.”  
The female glowed a little brighter, but not uncomfortably so. When she lifted her hands above the level of the table, one of Jean-Luc’s nephews, Robuste, offered the use of his sleeve screen. Out of the corner of his eye, Jean-Luc saw the children all train their eyes on their mother, their fingers jerking as if they were trying to emulate her gestural language. Jean-Luc idly wondered if it was a genetic imperative.  
“Unsure is perhaps not the correct term. You and my one are no longer…” she brought her hands together and very delicately meshed her finger tips. Jean-Luc nodded his understanding. “…and yet…”  
“We’re still connected.” supplied Jean-Luc.  
“Yes.” She gestured. “I do not know how effective your education will be…how my one will cope with the coming separation.”  
“Well,” sighed Jean-Luc. “I don’t know either. I am just as joined to my brother as he is to me, but I cannot stay here and he cannot leave. Somehow, using the techniques we’re being taught, we must learn to live apart. There’s no alternative.”  
“I am aware of that, Jean-Luc, but you will leave mostly unchanged. Yes, you will have the knowledge of the existence of your identical twin, and as I understand it, both of you will always remain…connected…but my one has undergone a fundamental change…a shift not only in his expanded knowledge, but in his perception of himself. I have a name for my one. He does not know it, but he knows he has it, yet he now wishes to be called Javier. That is not who he is! Despite my private name for him, he is the conscience! No name, no sobriquet can suffice. He is the conscience. That is not a title, Jean-Luc; it is a state of being…an état d′etre.”  
Placing an elbow on the tabletop, Jean-Luc rubbed his fingers over his lower lip, surprised when Robuste shoved his sleeve screen under his nose. “Do not do that!”  
Confused, Jean-Luc said, “Do what?”  
Pointing with two stiff fingers, the female used her free hand to mirror what Jean-Luc had just done. Although he could not see her face, he realised before he read the text. “That is something my one does!”  
Patiently, Jean-Luc said softly, “I can’t help sharing the same gestures. I don’t know why we have this ability, I know it is common in twins, but as our case is so unusual, I don’t even have a name for it. I can only apologise if I upset or offend you and assure you it is not done intentionally.”  
Mollified, the female did her best to relax and resume their conversation in a calmer mood.  
“Do you understand my dilemma?”  
The reference, though oblique, to his own ongoing problem the Prime Directive was proving to be wasn’t missed by the captain. Nevertheless, he let it pass and answered honestly. “Yes, I am and I cannot even begin to fully understand what this situation has done to you.”  
He sighed, shaking his head. “My overwhelming reaction is to want to apologise, but I have done nothing to apologise for.”  
The female lifted her hands higher, but Jean-Luc interrupted her. “I’m referring to the situation between my brother and me, not the broader concerns about the conscience and how he is sought.”  
The female lowered her hands and sighed.   
“Then it is me who should apologise, Jean-Luc. I know you have done nothing wrong, that you have intended no personal pain or anguish to befall any of us…but that has been the inevitable consequence of your being here.” She sighed again. “No one is to blame. I cannot say I am unhappy with your peoples’ intervention in the treatment of our children, on the contrary, I will be eternally grateful, but the cost! Have I lost my one? Is the person he is now the same man? I do not think so. And neither do I know how to bring him back or if indeed that is possible.”  
Lowering his head, Jean-Luc sighed. He thought for a little while and then said quietly, “I can’t say if the man you know as your one…the conscience…will ever revert to what he was, but I can tell you, with certainty, he will continue to function as the conscience. He is as devoted to that…” Jean-Luc smiled then, a small gesture but a genuine one, “…and to you and the children as he has always been. Perhaps, with time, you can all adjust.”  
The female tilted her head, her hands rising a little higher. “That is provided of course, that your…Federation…is content to leave things as they are. And that, Jean-Luc Picard will be up to you, will it not?”  
Before he could reply, the conscience and the adviser came back into the room. Although his tone was mild, Jean-Luc knew he was deeply disturbed. “We must go now, Jean-Luc. Our educators await and I have taken too much time from them already.”  
Jean-Luc smiled down at the children, who all offered their goodbyes, but to the female he gave a formal bow. “Mademoiselle.”  
She inclined her head in acknowledgement and began to glow brighter. As Jean-Luc left with Javier and the adviser, the children were donning eye shields.

 

Throughout the hours that followed, Jean-Luc and Javier worked hard, learning the disciplines and techniques to master their connection. Two full days passed before the educators issued a suggestion. The twins were to go out onto the ice, walk in opposite directions until told to stop by those monitoring from within the complex, then measurements would be taken by the twins themselves, and a group of healers. On their return their brains would be scanned. If the results of everything were satisfactory, Jean-Luc would be free to return to his ship…and Beverly.  
Suited up in the remarkably comfortable survival outfits, the men ventured outside. Jean-Luc would’ve liked to have had time to explore, but that was not why he was there. Having been giving both his instructions and direction, he nodded to Javier and said over their interlink, “Bonne chance, mon petit frère.”  
He could see Javier’s face through the polymer mask. He was grinning. “Toi aussi, moi le grand frère.”  
They turned in opposite directions and, bending into the wildly deranged wind, the ice particles and chunks shattering harmlessly against their impervious suits, went on their way.  
It seemed to Jean-Luc he’d been walking for hours. His urine had been recycled and processed; affording him perfectly potable water he could sip through a tube that protruded from his helmet near his mouth. Warmth was provided by both his body and an internal heater that drew its power from the wind. He was prepared to keep going, not knowing precisely how far he was supposed to go when text appeared, crawling across the inside of his face plate.  
“Stop now, Jean-Luc and rest.”  
Looking around, he saw there was nothing of note to use to seek any shelter from the wind except a small lump in the ice. He went to it and lowered himself into an almost prone position. Even though his suit was very well insulated, he still could hear the howling of the wind and at ground level, the ice was driven in a horizontal swathe approximately one metre thick. He was just relaxing when he heard Javier’s voice but it took a second or two before he realised it had not come over the interlink, but in his mind. He answered the same way, thinking instead of speaking.  
“Yes, Javier, I hear you.”  
“I am not experiencing any…difficulties, either mental or physical. You?”  
“No.” He found he could easily shrug. “In fact before you…spoke…to me, I had not given our separation any thought.”  
“Nor me, although now I am concentrating …je peux sentez dans mon esprit.”  
“Oui, moi aussi.” agreed Jean-Luc. “I can feel you in my mind as well.”  
“Hmm, but it seems that unless we actively wish it…concentrate…it does not seem to be in the…avant-garde?…of our minds.”  
“The forefront.” Jean-Luc supplied. “No, you’re right.”  
“So, shall we contact those who wait?”  
“Yes, might as well, but before you do, can I enquire how far apart we are?”  
“Of course. All you need do is speak aloud. You will be heard.”  
“To whom am I speaking?” asked Jean-Luc.  
“The conscience’s adviser, Captain.”  
“May I ask, what is the physical distance that separates my brother and me?”  
“Measured in increments you would be familiar with, the distance is precisely ten kilometres.”  
“And you think that distance is enough for the purposes of this…test?”  
“Yes. Provided the scans we will conduct on yours and the conscience’s brain show no anomalous readings, the healers are confident a vastly increased distance will make no difference. If there were going to be any problems, they should have manifested themselves by now.”  
“I see. And I take it the organic suppressant I have in my brain has no bearing on the results or the chemicals my brother has in his brain?”  
“No, Captain. This is not now nor has it ever been about the chemical constituents of either brain, although the unique latent ability you both possess only came to the fore because of the chemicals, now that it has been amplified and activated, it has just become a matter of finding a way to regulate and control the amount of connection. We recognise neither the conscience nor you can perform your tasks if hindered by your presence in each other’s mind. Now that we know you can be physically separated, yet still possess the ability to reach each other at a level that is acceptable to you both, we feel a satisfactory balance has been achieved.”  
While Jean-Luc was pondering that, Javier’s voice entered his mind.  
“It is time to return, Jean-Luc. Although our suits are adequate, it would be best not to take liberties with the ice.”  
Climbing to his feet, Jean-Luc reversed his direction and began, once again bent into the howling gale, to begin his journey back to the complex. He glanced up and through his face plate he saw the ice particles, some quite large smash against the clear material of his mask. On the inside was a display, giving him directions but what amazed him, and had done since stepping outside the complex was that the ice, even large pieces, smashed and shattered against him with little or no effect. He thought to his brother, “This ice. It’s not what I would know as ice, is it?”  
Jean-Luc clearly heard the amusement in Javier’s thoughts. “The only thing our ice has in common from what I know of Earth ice is that it is frozen. You did not notice the water when you…douch′é?”  
“Showered. Yes, I thought the water was…not water.”  
Javier’s laughter in his mind made Jean-Luc chuckle. “All right. If it’s not water, what is it?”  
“Ah! I believe the word I need is…d′azote?”  
“Nitrogen?” said an amazed Jean-Luc. “Oh, of course! When frozen, nitrogen forms crystals that have an open structure and they lose density!”  
“Oui. We also have on this world, nitrogen…volcans?”  
“And the nitrogen volcanoes spew the nitrogen in a vapour that crystalises!” Jean-Luc grinned. “So…the water in the shower? That can’t be nitrogen in a liquid form; otherwise I’d have been frozen solid. How is it processed to create the liquid?”  
Javier laughed again and Jean-Luc could see his brother’s face in his mind.   
“For that you will have to ask my scientists, Jean-Luc. I am an expert in the law of my people and some of the science they use, but as to the finer points? Que puis-je dire? If it does not pertain to a petition, I do not need to know.”  
“Then when we get back, I will be asking some questions.”  
There was silence and Jean-Luc frowned. “Javier?” he thought.  
The regret in his brother’s voice was unmistakable. “You may not get the opportunity, Jean-Luc. Once the scans have been done and provided all is well, you will be returned to your ship. And then, my brother, you will be respectfully requested to leave.”  
Inside his helmet, Jean-Luc’s expression soured. “That’s unacceptable, Javier, you know that! I can’t leave while the situation that exists with your people taking embryos from humans in Federation space remains.”  
The inaudible sigh was strangely loud in Jean-Luc’s mind. “Jean-Luc, there is nothing you can do! You cannot stop it nor can the Federation.”  
“But, Javier….that leaves me in an untenable position! What do you expect me to do? We are both aware of how devoted, how inextricably bound we are to our respective appointments. You can’t deviate from your path, but neither can I!”  
“Jean-Luc, you know how this situation distresses me, as I know it distresses you, but you have to face the fact that nothing can be done! You can keep your ship here, you can summon fleets of Starships, but you cannot do anything! You cannot even protéger your citizenry. If my people wish to obtenir a new conscience then they will do so. There is nothing you or anyone else can do to stop it!”  
“We wouldn’t have to protect our citizens from your people procuring embryos if you put a stop to it!”  
“I cannot!”  
“Cannot or will not?!”  
They were shouting their thoughts. Javier strove for calm. “It is not a matter of whether or not I can or cannot, will or will not, Jean-Luc. It is the way things are. You have to accept it.”  
Finding himself calming, Jean-Luc sighed, his next words laced with sadness. “I hear you, Javier, but I feel you too. I know you no longer condone what is happening.”  
“That is irrelevant, Jean-Luc. Like you, there are times when I am faced with unpalatable decisions, judgements I have to make that while being in accordance with the law, are personally difficult for me. That is part of who and what we are. Avec l′autorité vient la responsabilité. You know that.”  
Shaking his head, Jean-Luc sighed. “How often have I heard that? With authority comes responsibility. But surely, Javier, one can be responsible and still be guided by one’s conscience?”  
The chuckle was sardonic. “Why do you think this…position…I hold was so named? Jean-Luc, I am my peoples’ conscience. Not mine! I know you have broken your Prime Directive…more than once. But I cannot, Jean-Luc. When you act, when you make a judgement it is usually concerning your ship and your crew n′est pas? And sometimes your decisions have broader ramifications, but even during a situation diplomatique, you are dealing with abstracts, something…remote and the final outcome will be decided by a distant government. Oui?”  
“Yes.”  
“Well, le frère, that is not what happens here. Although you know my people are not compelled to obey, the judgement of a conscience has never been challenged. Now if you were in my position, would you put your personal opinion...your private belief, especially given you have only just recently begun to think in this way, above that of the very people you were chosen to serve?”   
He sighed. “That would be like you acting on your own agenda against the will and laws of the Federation. Would you do that, Jean-Luc? Could you do that?”  
Trudging along, bent into the deranged wind, Jean-Luc knew Javier had made his point. Nothing more was said during the long hours it took to return to the complex.

 

They had help in removing the survival suits and Jean-Luc again got the distinct impression something was deeply disturbing his brother. With their newly found control, he couldn’t discern what it was, but neither could Javier completely hide it.  
It wasn’t until the scans had been completed and both given clean bills of health that Jean-Luc found a quiet moment to speak to his twin.  
“Are you going to tell me what it is that’s bothering you? Or is it too obvious?”  
Javier shot Jean-Luc a dark look and frowned. Knowing prevarication would be unacceptable he sighed and bowed his head, his right hand reaching around to grab his braid and bring it to his front. “A situation has arisen.”  
Jean-Luc said nothing.  
“Because of extenuating circumstances, a precedent has been set.”  
“That’s rather cryptic, Javier.”  
The man snorted and walked a tight circle, swinging the end of his braid back and forth, in effect whipping himself. Jean-Luc saw the gesture for what it was. A type of self flagellation, punishment for an infraction.  
“Are you going to elaborate?”  
Javier came to an abrupt halt, speared a long look at his brother and said quietly, “Non, vous devez y aller maintenant, Jean-Luc.”  
Jean-Luc opened his mouth to protest, to say he didn’t want to go, but he found himself in his quarters. The blaring red alert sirens were only serving to add to his disorientation. The comm. system came to life. It was Will.  
“Captain Picard? Are you all right, sir?”  
“Yes…” he replied, still finding his mental balance a little off. “I’m fine, number one. You can cancel the red alert.”  
“Aye, Captain.”  
“Is Doctor Crusher in sick bay?”  
“Yes, I believe so, sir.”  
“Then that’s where I’ll be. I’ll come up to the bridge soon. Picard out.”

 

On seeing her husband stride through the doors, Beverly threw decorum to the winds and ran to him. They collided, their arms encircling each other in a fierce hug. The staff, though highly amused, averted their eyes and afforded the couple what privacy they could.  
Beverly wanted so badly to kiss him and as she drew back, she could see he wanted the same thing, but she also saw something else, a trace of urgency, but not passion, something else. Holding him at arm’s length, she said carefully, “What is it?”  
He gave a look of gratitude at her understanding and adopted his captain’s persona. “There’s something going on down on the planet. Javier is deeply disturbed about it. I asked him to tell me and I think he wanted to tell me, but instead he…” Jean-Luc made an upwards gesture with his hands. Beverly understood.  
“Okay, what can I do?”  
“Well…” Jean-Luc’s fingers went to his lower lip. “Can you think of anything, anything at all out of the ordinary…?”  
“Jean-Luc,” Beverly said patiently. “What exactly are you asking? Out of the ordinary? What constitutes ordinary with these people? We’ve only seen your brother, his mate and family and their staff. I admit I know the history of the people but as for day-to-day things…”  
Shaking his head, Jean-Luc muttered, “There has to be something…”  
Folding her arms across her chest, Beverly devoted some time going over everything she remembered. “Jean-Luc…how long have you felt this…disturbance in your brother?”  
The captain shrugged. “I first felt it two days ago. We’d been having breakfast and the adviser came in. He said there’d been something of importance that’d happened and Javier was needed. When Javier returned, he was...disturbed.”  
“That coincides with Will’s return. You know…”  
“What?”  
“Look,” said Beverly, waving her hand dismissively. “…it’s probably nothing, but I got the distinct impression that at least one of the healers had gone out on a limb.”  
“Why do you say that?”  
Baring her teeth, Beverly drew in a breath and grimaced. “Gut feeling? Intuition?… You remember how those healers were always in groups?”  
“Yes, but I never saw more than four.”  
“True, but on two occasions I actually saw healers leaving the company of the one I was interfacing with. I got the impression it wasn’t alone though, but when I did realise there was another one, it sort of kept a low profile.”  
“So what are you saying?”  
“I don’t know…I’m just trying to give you what you want. You asked if I could think of anything out of the ordinary and that’s the only thing I can think of. What did Javier say to you? Did he say anything at all? Give you any sort of clue?”  
Jean-Luc frowned. “He said that a situation had arisen and because of extenuating circumstances…a precedent had been set.”  
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”  
With a frustrated shake of his head, Jean-Luc let out a forceful breath. “I don’t know!”  
Using forefinger and thumb, he pinched his lips in thought. His eyes sharpened and he snapped his fingers. “Do you still have access?”  
“To the aliens?” Beverly shrugged. “I’ve no idea.”  
“Well, I’m fairly sure if I hail them they won’t answer, but if you do…as a doctor, do you think they’ll…interface?”  
Her smile was warm, making Jean-Luc’s heart sing. “Only one way to find out.” With a gentle jerk of her head, she invited her husband to accompany her to her office. They settled into the chairs and Beverly activated her monitor. “Are you there?”  
Nothing happened. Beverly sat back and glared at the blank screen. “Blast!”  
Jean-Luc held up one hand, saying quietly, “Patience, my love. If something’s gone wrong, they might be a little skittish. Give it a few minutes then try again.”  
A few minutes later, Beverly said again, “Is anyone there?”  
Long moments passed in silence and Beverly was about to swear when she suddenly sat up straight. Jean-Luc left his seat to join her. Together they read the scrolling text.  
“I am here, Beverly, but it would be best if this interface was terminated.”  
Before Jean-Luc could whisper any instructions, a canny Beverly put her trust in her intuition. “Something’s wrong…something’s happened, hasn’t it.”  
More silence ensued. All the couple could do was wait and hope. They both released a long sigh of relief when more text appeared.   
“Yes.”  
“Can you tell me what it is?”  
“I should not.”  
“If it involves us, perhaps we have a right to know?” It was a very presumptuous thing to say, but it seemed to work.  
“I have taken actions I had no right to take. I made decisions without lodging a petition and waiting for a judgement and to compound my gross errors of judgement, I allowed one of my colleagues to become involved.”  
Jean-Luc spoke for the first time. “Are you saying you made some unilateral decisions? That you acted of your own cognition, through your own, personal conscience?”  
“Yes.”  
“Are you to be punished?”  
“We do not know. Such a thing has never occurred before. I…we…have set a precedent.”  
“Bingo.” Said Beverly quietly.  
“Can you tell me why you acted as you did?” Jean-Luc said it gently, imparting his sympathy.  
“On both occasions we needed to interface with Beverly, but lacked the time to lodge a petition then wait for a decision as the conscience was, at that time, ensconced with you undergoing your education. The strategists had been notified, but even so, they had not responded either. If I had not taken action, Commander Riker and his child may have…”  
“So, just to clarify, had you not violated your peoples’ ways, my first officer and his daughter would’ve died?”  
“Yes.”  
“The extenuating circumstances.” Beverly muttered.  
“Healer, I may need to interface with you again in the near future. Is that possible?”  
“I doubt you will be here, Captain. The formal request for your ship to leave is being drafted now.”  
“Nevertheless, will you speak to me again?” Jean-Luc’s tone was urgent.  
“Provided I am not being prepared for the conclusion or censured in such a way that prohibits me from interfacing, then yes, Captain, I will speak with you again.”  
“Thank you, Healer.”  
Jean-Luc regained his seat, lost momentarily in deep thought. Beverly waited until he lifted his head. “Do you think this changes anything?” She asked.  
“About the Prime Directive? I don’t know….perhaps.”  
Taking a deep breath, Beverly said quietly, “Jean-Luc…there’s something I want to run by you, but you may not like it…at least not at first.”  
Sitting up a little straighter, Jean-Luc gave his wife his full attention. “Go ahead.”

 

How Jean-Luc had held his tongue while Beverly outlined her idea about sourcing the new conscience from one of the millions of human orphans he didn’t know, but by the time she finally finished he was livid and barely able to control himself. As she’d spoken, Beverly saw the growing anger in her husband but pressed on regardless.   
Now she had to face his wrath.  
His eyes glittering dangerously and his voice deceptively soft, Jean-Luc said, “I simply cannot believe you would utter something so gross, so fundamentally grotesque! How could you, Beverly? As a mother, a human, God, as a member of Starfleet? It beggars belief!”  
His words hurt, they stung like hell, but Beverly let them wash over her. Wanting him to see past his natural reactions, Beverly strove to remain calm.  
“Jean-Luc, by my estimation it’s most likely only one more conscience is going to be required. Now you and I both know the position of the conscience isn’t one of servitude or slavery, there is nothing to prevent a conscience from leaving. Provided he has the chemicals removed from his brain, he’d be free to go.”  
Shaking his head, Jean-Luc’s expression was sour. “You’re forgetting something, Beverly.”  
Tilting her head in silent enquiry, Beverly waited while Jean-Luc took a deep breath to calm himself.  
“The people…very kindly…allow the conscience to have a one and inevitably children and none of those beings can leave. Now you think, Beverly. Having been born, raised, educated, partnered and allowed to procreate, would you leave? Leave your people, your partner…your children? Long ago on Earth there was an unscrupulous method of entrapment called a honey trap. Invariably a woman was used to lure a man using sex or sometimes just her looks to get what she wanted, usually for a second or third party. The most celebrated was of course Mata Hari who was executed by firing squad in France on charges of espionage for Germany during World War One. Don’t you think that this entire situation…the partner, allowing the conscience to procreate is nothing more than a very sophisticated honey trap?”  
“Are you saying Javier and his one don’t love each other?” Beverly’s tone was disbelieving.  
“No, of course not. I’ve felt my brother’s love for his one, Beverly, and from what I know of her, his one loves him with the same commitment and depth and they both love their children. But it’s still convenient, isn’t it? The conscience isn’t introduced to his…intended…until he’s in his twenties and probably lonely. We know that on taking his position as the conscience his family must leave. So he’s presented with a female companion. What follows is not only natural, Beverly…it’s human nature!”  
Thinking on the run, Beverly said quickly, “Okay, then not an infant then…maybe a boy of say…ten or twelve and accompanied by a human female friend or companion, perhaps even a sister? I know some of the children who’ve been orphaned have developed some pretty profound friendships. If the chosen male child was willing, then might not a deal be struck? In return for being educated and taking his position as the conscience, he has only a human one which, of course, might be male too. In any case, as long as the conscience and his one aren’t related, they can procreate and, if they so choose, could leave at any time.”  
Rubbing her forehead as if the entire problem was giving her a headache, Beverly let out a short breath. “Look, Jean-Luc, I don’t have all the answers, but I do know that no matter what you say, no matter how you feel about it, you can’t do anything about the current situation. No one can. But if you can offer an acceptable compromise, especially as it seems your brother is faced with a very difficult set of circumstances…”  
Jean-Luc had been a captain too long, was too used to reacting to new ideas to dismiss this arbitrarily. He frowned as his mind began to wrestle with it.  
“Do you think…?” he was articulating his thoughts. “…that a child that young could make an informed choice?”  
“Those kids have been through hell, Jean-Luc. They’ve had to grow up much too soon, but to answer your question, yes. I think as long as they’ve been given all the pertinent information, then yes, I believe they could.”  
“And how many…candidates…would you suggest?”  
Shrugging her shoulders, Beverly’s voice took on an exasperated tone. “I don’t know!” She then strove to calm down. “I think maybe it’d be a collaboration. We’d need to do psyche tests to determine suitability of the boys and their prospective companions and I guess the aliens would have criteria of their own, considering they wouldn’t have had the opportunity to educate the chosen boy from birth.”  
“And I suppose,” mused Jean-Luc. “that we could make it part of the deal that we be allowed to make regular visits…”  
“Checkups.” smiled Beverly.  
He looked for and a found a small smile of his own. “Yes.” He then sighed deeply. “I still don’t like it, Beverly, but it’s certainly better than the present procedure.” He shook his head, frowning. “I can’t imagine what Javier’s going through at the moment. That healer and his colleague…in doing what they did, bypassing and circumventing the very system their society lives by and doing so to assist non-indigenous beings…aliens…and said aliens connected to the conscience himself via his twin brother…another alien…” He shook his head again. “Javier and the healer both stated a precedent had been set. I wonder how my brother will deal with it?”  
“The healer mentioned being prepared for the conclusion. Do you think that means what I think it means?”  
“That he and his colleague may be executed?” Jean-Luc sighed. “I don’t know, perhaps. We do know that these people don’t view death as we do, certainly not as merely the end of life, but as a way to continue to contribute to their society but to be made to end your life prematurely for an infraction…I can’t help but think of that as an execution.”  
Beverly closed her eyes and shook her head, saying softly, “Please don’t mention the Prime Directive again, Jean-Luc.”  
“I wasn’t going to, Beverly. Apart from the fact that it’s a human making the decisions, this has nothing whatsoever to do with us…as unpalatable as it is.”  
They were silent for a while before Beverly said curiously, “They have an AI don’t they?”  
“Yes.”  
“Well, if all this…” she waved her hand back and forth. “…with choosing a human child or two…if the chosen children decide to leave after a while, you know as adults…given that I believe the transcendence isn’t all that far off…maybe the AI could suffice for the last bit…the transition between what they are now and what they’re to become?”  
Jean-Luc offered a one-shoulder shrug. “That would depend on a few things, Beverly. How long the conscience stayed at his job as opposed to when the transcendence takes place. If the gap wasn’t too big, then they AI would probably suffice, but if the conscience was to leave too early…then the society would be in a terrible situation with no guidance.”  
“But, Jean-Luc, the healer has shown that the people can if pushed, take responsibility for themselves.”  
“Yes, but that too hinges on factors as yet unknown. If Javier indeed judges the actions of the healer and his companion as being…I don’t know…treasonous? Seditious? And decides to deem conclusion to be the sentence, then I seriously doubt others would follow the healer’s lead.”  
Placing her fisted hands on her desk, Jean-Luc saw determination in his wife’s face. “Then, Jean-Luc, you have to talk to your brother. I know we have no firm ground here, no permission of our own to proceed with this, but if you don’t put our proposition to him, disaster might just take place and at least two innocent lives might be lost.”  
They looked into each other’s eyes and Jean-Luc nodded. Swapping chairs with Beverly, Jean-Luc faced the monitor on the desk and said firmly, “Healer? I need to interface with you.”

 

It was over two hours before the wished for text appeared. What they read brought crushing defeat.  
“The healer is no longer permitted to interface with you. Please desist.”  
Quickly, trying to keep the line of communication open, Jean-Luc said urgently, “To whom am I interfacing?”  
“That is not your concern, Captain Picard. Very soon you will receive a formal request to leave. I strongly suggest you heed it.”  
“Please, I want to…”  
The monitor went black, the reverted to its normal standby mode. Swearing softly, Jean-Luc sat back and scrubbed his face with his hands.   
“Now what?” asked a deflated Beverly. “We’re up the proverbial creek without a paddle.”  
Sitting up, Jean-Luc looked tired, but determined. “No, we’re most certainly not! Give me a moment, Beverly. I need to concentrate and I don’t wish to be distracted.” He shot her a look and smiled an apology. “Please.”  
She began to rise from her seat, saying quietly, “Okay.” But he stopped her by gently grabbing her hand. “No, stay…please. I just meant I can’t be distracted, that’s all.”  
She regained her seat and offered an understanding smile. “Sit still and shut up? Okay, I can do that.”  
He smiled again, then closed his eyes and a slight frown creased his forehead and deepened the crease between his brows.  
“Javier, my brother. I need to speak with you.” He thought. Jean-Luc could feel his twin and Javier’s resistance to Jean-Luc’s gentle intrusion.  
“Please, Javier. We both know how important this is.”  
Jean-Luc’s concentration was broken by the overhead speakers coming to life. “Riker to Picard.”  
His eyes snapped open and again he softly swore. “Picard here!” he snapped.  
“Sorry to disturb you, Captain, but we’ve just received a rather strongly worded request to leave. Immediately, sir.”  
“I see.”  
“Orders, Captain?”  
“Do nothing, number one. I may have more information soon, but for now, hold our position. Picard out.”  
He didn’t have to reiterate his instructions to Beverly. As she watched, he again closed his eyes but this time his frown of concentration was far more pronounced.  
“Javier! This is pointless. Ordering us to leave solves nothing. We have a proposal, one you might find acceptable, but you won’t know what it is unless you talk to me. Please, Javier!”  
The twin’s voice was angry when it sounded in Jean-Luc’s mind. “I do not wish to talk to you, Jean-Luc! You and your people have caused enough trouble! If not for the fact Beverly managed to heal my children…”  
“You’d what?” said Jean-Luc accusingly. “Shut down my ship again? Take us to the brink of destruction in a useless demonstration of your peoples’ superiority? To do what? To scare us into leaving? You know damned well that won’t work because you know me…just as I know you!”  
“Damn you, Jean-Luc!”  
“Perhaps, Javier, but are you willing to listen to what I have to say?”  
When the twin didn’t reply, Jean-Luc sighed. “You’ve decided to invoke the conclusion of the healer and his colleague, haven’t you?”  
“That is none of your concern.”  
“Javier, you know I can feel you. I know what that decision is doing to you and it’s so unnecessary! Through our computers and Beverly herself, you know of the Hippocratic Oath. Now I’m not for one second implying your healers took the same oath or anything remotely like it, but their actions speak where words do not. In order to save the lives of my first officer and his infant daughter, your healers…the same ones you would…execute…deliberately put themselves in a position that left them open for this kind of retributive justice. Is that right, Javier? Is that moral? Is that what your people base their society on? A society you yourself told me exists to serve and better each other? How is your peoples’ society made better by executing those who show compassion, selflessness…and free thought?”  
“You cannot judge us by your standards, Jean-Luc! You do not have that right and it is a direct contravention of your own much-vaunted laws!”  
“I’m not judging you, Javier, not by our laws or any other. I’m asking you as one enlightened being to another. Is what you’re doing right?”  
Javier’s voice broke. “I have no choice! If I allow indiscretions like these, it makes my position untenable and my people will descend into chaos!”  
“Not necessarily, Javier.”  
There was a lengthy silence before a wary Javier said, “You mentioned a proposal?”  
“Yes.”  
“Then tell me.”  
Fifteen minutes later Beverly was becoming very concerned. Jean-Luc was sweating freely and had paled considerably. She knew he was very tired when he first appeared on the ship and was pale then, but now? She wanted desperately to scan him, but feared even the soft noise of a tricorder might shatter his concentration, so she had little choice but to sit and watch. And worry.  
His frown lessened a little when Javier, on falling silent once Jean-Luc had outlined the proposal finally replied. “How can Beverly be so sure about the timeframe? My people have not given such a definitive estimation. They say the transcendence will occur soon but as I told Beverly, that could mean anything. Time is irrelevant to my people. They are an ancient species, Jean-Luc. Soon could be as Beverly suggests and mean within the next century or it could just as easily mean during the next millennia.”  
Jean-Luc sighed and screwed his eyes shut. He was exhausted and knew his brother was too. “Beverly has conducted extensive studies on the DNA of your children, Javier. She was able to extract and isolate the specific DNA of your peoples’ species and she discovered the changes. They’re taking place now. We know it’s inevitable, that is not in question, but she is certain it will occur within the coming century.”  
“You realise I am not supposed to make a judgement without having been given a petition? That is not my function.”  
“Javier, although it was only two individuals and granted their occupation as healers may have had a bearing on their decision to act as they did, nevertheless, those individuals have demonstrated your people can act on their own conscience. If you put this proposal to your people…let them decide, who’s to say what they may do? After all, it was your people who, so long ago, came up with the concept of the conscience in the first place. Isn’t it fitting that now, as they face the change they are soon to undergo, as they stand on the brink of a new existence, they reassess their society and how it is run?”  
When Javier said nothing, Jean-Luc added, “A century is but a blink of an eye, Javier.”  
“I will speak to my adviser, Jean-Luc. In the meantime, stay in orbit. I will contact you again.”  
“Thank you, Javier.”  
Jean-Luc collapsed backwards in his chair, his arms falling limp by his sides. Beverly reached into her coat pocket and had the tricorder out and scanning before Jean-Luc even registered the sounds. He made no protest when Beverly said firmly, “Transporter room, two to beam directly into the bedroom of Captain Picard’s quarters.”  
As they rematerialised, Beverly had to grab Jean-Luc to prevent him from falling to the deck. She took his weight and guided him to the bed. He did what he could to assist, but it wasn’t much. Beverly got him straightened out, his head on the pillows and was taking off his boots when she glanced up to see he had slipped into sleep. She stripped him down to his briefs and covered him before running another scan. She was slightly concerned by the depth of his sleep, but chose to let him be. As she took her own clothes off and stretched out beside him, she called sickbay and told Alyssa she would be off duty until further notice.

 

Like his twin, Javier collapsed. His adviser assisted him to his living area where he was met by Javier’s one. Together they got the man into bed, but where Jean-Luc had slipped immediately into a deep sleep, Javier had enough mental energy to say, “Things must change, my old friend. Summon the main council. When I awake, I will speak with them.”  
Javier’s eyes closed before the adviser could acknowledge or, more importantly advise against the instruction. The glowing male looked down at the conscience and sensed the perturbance of his one. Together they began to glow brightly, the room vividly illuminated. The one raised her hands, gesturing, “I do not understand what is happening. The main council has not been summoned in my lifetime.”  
“Nor mine, but it seems obvious the conscience has been in contact with his brother. I will consult with the healers. We must find a way to monitor what is said between them.”  
“You believe my one is under some kind of influence?”  
“Coercion is something we must guard against.”  
The female turned and gave the adviser an astonished look.   
“You would accuse the conscience of allowing himself to be coerced?”  
“We can take nothing for granted! Ever since the Federation ship arrived, things have slowly spiralled out of our control. We must reassert that control!”  
The female looked down at her sleeping one.  
“At any cost?”  
“The people will not enter into any form of hostility with anyone, but if necessary, an untainted conscience may be required…and quickly.”  
“Then the procurers must be sent. But…the conclusion? Must it be soon?”  
“That depends on how compromised the conscience has become.” The adviser turned to the female and offered a slight bow. “The people will not act without good reason, you know that.”   
“I do, and for myself, I welcome the opportunity to assist my people, to contribute, but my one…our children…”  
“Be comforted in the knowledge each of you will provide in your own way.”  
“Yes. It is the way of our people.”  
“We must look upon this entire episode as a learning experience. Never again will we request assistance from outside”  
“No, that would be unwise.”  
“Let me know as soon as he wakes.”  
“Of course.”   
They bowed to each other and the adviser left. The female lay beside her one, her glow slowly diminishing.

 

Once Beverly had woken, she made regular visits to Jean-Luc to scan him. The readings showed his bio signs were normal, he was simply deeply asleep. She divided her time between reading, eating the occasional light meal and checking on her husband.  
Fourteen hours after he’d descended into sleep, he woke. As it turned out, Beverly was sitting on the bed waiting for his rise to full consciousness. Her tricorder had been registering the subtle changes that heralded his ascent from his deep sleep and, as his eyes cracked open, she smiled, ever-so-gently caressing his stubbled cheek and saying softly, “Hey there. Welcome back.”  
He smiled, then just as quickly grimaced. She knew what was wrong and asked kindly, “Do you need any help?”  
His voice was rough and very deep. “No, I think I can manage.” He rose stiffly and slowly, a little hunched. As he made his way to the bathroom, he said over his shoulder, “Thank you, though.”  
Smiling and giving a soft snort, Beverly again consulted her tricorder and saw the readout that indicated his well over-full bladder.  
He was standing much straighter and the pained expression was gone from his face when he came back into the bedroom. He surprised Beverly by his nakedness. He’d obviously doffed his briefs. Getting back into bed, he said softly, “Will you join me?”   
There was nothing overtly sexual in his tone and Beverly did want to spend some quiet time with her husband. She gladly stripped and slipped under the covers. The cuddled, each ignoring his slowly growing erection.  
For more than half an hour they were content to lie in each other’s arms, kissing and caressing, not as foreplay, but to re-establish the intimacy of their relationship, to reaffirm their love, but when Jean-Luc took Beverly’s hand and held it over his heart she knew by the smokiness of his intense gaze he wanted to make love. And she knew she did too.  
Whispering, she said, “It’s been too long since I felt you, my love.”  
“Yes,” he whispered in return. “There have been instances, in recent times, when I have yearned for you.”  
Their foreplay began in earnest, but at one stage Beverly said breathily, “Will he know?”  
Caught in a long, soft moan of pleasure, Jean-Luc shook his head and managed to reply, “No, I can prevent it.”  
Their lovemaking was gentle and protracted, leaving them both sated and profoundly content. Unlike his usual physical habit of remaining erect, Jean-Luc was flaccid inside Beverly as they lay together, causing her to say softly, “Are you still tired, Jean-Luc? Are you okay?”  
He summoned a tender smile. “I’m fine, mon coeur, I just don’t feel the need for anything further. Just reconnecting, making love to you again…you’re right, it’s been far too long. I needed you, Beverly, not just physically, but emotionally. Inside me, perhaps forever, are the lingering feelings I have for Javier’s one.”  
He sought to ease her disquiet, so evident in her face. “No, don’t misunderstand me, Beverly. I have no personal feelings for her, certainly nothing romantic or sexual, but somehow she’s been imprinted in my psyche as I have no doubt you exist in the same way in Javier’s mind. I needed to not expunge her, I don’t think that’s possible, but to reassert our connection…to make it uppermost.”  
Beverly found a smile and kissed him. “Just as long as when we make love it’s only me in your mind.”  
He smiled and she felt him begin to harden again. He raised one eyebrow and said sensuously, “Proof enough?”  
“Hmm,” mewed Beverly. “Oh….yes…”  
Later they slept, only woken a little over an hour later when Jean-Luc started awake, the now familiar expression of intense concentration on his face. All Beverly could do was remain quiet and wait.  
“Jean-Luc, There is trouble.” Javier thought urgently.  
“What is it?” What’s happened?”  
“The main council has been summoned and is refusing to speak with me. They have come to the conclusion I have been compromised by you. The healers wish to alter me so we can no longer communicate.”  
“Sever our connection?” thought Jean-Luc with alarm. “And what if you refuse?”  
“It matters not. They are about to send out the procurers. Either way, me, my one, our children…we will soon all be prepared for the conclusion.”  
Jean-Luc sat bolt upright and actually shouted out loud. “NO!”  
“There is nothing to be done, Jean-Luc.”  
“But don’t you have greater power than the main council? Can’t you override their decisions?”  
“It is not a matter of power, Jean-Luc, it never was. The main council has not been consulted for so long my adviser had to access the archives to find the last recorded instance of such an event. In that case the conscience had made a decision based on a misinterpretation of the law. It was such a glaring error the main council was summoned to make the error known to the conscience…not I stress to rescind his decision, but to simply make him aware he had erred.”  
“Then why is this different? If they lack the necessary power to override your…”  
“Jean-Luc! They believe I have been coerced! Compromised! In the eyes of the main council, I have betrayed my people.”  
Jean-Luc thought furiously, trying to come up with a solution. “Javier, why have a main council in the first place? You told me why your people came up with the concept of the conscience and despite millennia of use no decision of the conscience has been contested or ignored. If your people are so satisfied with the system, why have a main council?”  
“I do not know. I was made aware of its existence at the beginning of my education, but it has never been made obvious to me that it functions in any way, not as a regulatory body or as an overseeing entity that secretly scrutinises my decisions.”  
“Then how would they come to the conclusion you have been…compromised?”  
There was a lengthy silence before Javier said with obvious anger and disappointment. “My adviser.”  
“Well.” thought Jean-Luc. “it seems to me you should have a very in-depth talk with him.”  
“So it would seem.” Jean-Luc heard the unspoken sigh. “I had thought him a loyal and staunch friend. Perhaps all these years…my entire life, he has been living a lie.”  
“Don’t be too harsh, Javier. He may well be the loyal and staunch friend you thought he was, but he may also serve his people. His position may be a difficult one, balancing his personal friendship with you against his need to protect the interests of his people.”  
“I understand what it is you are saying, Jean-Luc, but the question remains. Where are his loyalties? To me or the people. On ne peut pas server deux maîtres.”  
“No, one cannot serve two masters, that’s true, but he must be conflicted if, as you say, he has been a life-long friend. Talk to him Javier, not as the conscience, but as that friend.”  
“I will do so, Jean-Luc, but it is not a conversation I look forward to.”  
“No, the hard ones are always difficult. Talk to me soon, Javier.”  
“I will.”  
Jean-Luc fell back onto the bed, his brow beaded in sweat. Beverly was reaching over to the side table for her tricorder when Jean-Luc’s rough voice halted her. “It’s all right, mon amour. I’m fine, just give me a minute.”  
After several long moments, Beverly said quietly, “That didn’t seem to take as much out of you as before.”  
“No, you’re right. Perhaps we’re becoming stronger.”  
“But wasn’t your education done to teach both of you control?”  
“Yes, but what we learned was more about how to be able to be separated…to control the effects of separation. Not how to cope with the effects of contact.” He sighed and pushed a forefinger and thumb into his eyes. “I don’t think it occurred to anyone this might happen. I think perhaps the healers assumed, having achieved the ability for us to be separated, we would cease to wish to communicate telepathically.”  
“Well that’s pretty stupid! Why the hell wouldn’t you both what the ability to communicate psionically?”  
He reached for her and she went gladly, despite her irritation. Nestled in his arms she said quietly, “Now what?”  
“Javier has a significant problem on his hands, Beverly, one that may prove fatal for him, his one and his family. For now all we can do is wait.”  
Beverly was closing her eyes, ordering her body to relax when she suddenly tensed. Lifting her head slightly she asked worriedly, “Don’t tell me they’re going to steal another human embryo?”  
Jean-Luc sighed, “I don’t know. Perhaps.”  
“Shit!” Beverly exclaimed.  
“Yes, shit indeed.”

 

By virtue of the fact the conscience had requested him to meet in the secret place, Javier’s old friend suspected just what kind of conversation it would be and he knew it would be as equals, not as the conscience and his adviser.  
In the tiny room with its small window, the dim light picked out only the prominent features of Javier’s face. The adviser deliberately controlled his glowing, knowing too much illumination would cause his friend discomfort. There was only just enough room for the adviser to lift his hands to gesture.   
The human was sitting cross-legged, his thick braid resting across his thighs. His head was bowed; his eyes watching as his rhythmically squeezed the braid. The adviser waited patiently. Even though he was fairly certain of the dynamics of the meeting, he would not break protocol.  
Javier sighed and eventually looked up, directing his gaze at the adviser’s unseen face.  
“Who are you?”  
The adviser thought he knew the meaning of the question, but sought clarification anyway.  
“What exactly are you asking me?”  
Javier read the question on his sleeve screen and scowled. “Are you my friend, loyal to me and me alone or do you serve the people?”  
“I am both. I am your loyal friend, but I also serve the people.”  
Javier snorted and rubbed his brow. “How ironic. I have only recently reminded my brother that one cannot serve two masters.”  
“I do not serve two masters. Neither you nor my people are my masters. I love both of you. I serve willingly because of that love.”  
“So your loyalties are divided.”  
“No. My loyalties are one-and-the-same. You are the conscience. You are, in effect, if not the people, then certainly the will of the people.”  
“I told you to summon the main council.”  
“Yes.”  
“And it was you who informed them of your belief I had been coerced…compromised.”  
“Yes.”  
“Why?”  
“I had become aware you had been in psionic contact with your brother. When you said things must change and then instructed me to summon the main council, I could draw only one conclusion. Somehow your brother has influenced you and that he had convinced you to change the order of things…to disrupt that which is right and natural.”  
Javier somehow controlled his escalating anger. “You are aware of the coming transcendence.”  
“Of course. All the people are.”  
“What if I told you I have incontrovertible proof that the transcendence will take place within the next one hundred years?”  
“I do not see how that is relevant. It will occur when it occurs.”  
“But if you accept my proof, then that would mean given no unforeseen unfortunate circumstances, only one more conscience would be required.”  
“So?”  
“Then may I suggest it is not necessary to procure him in the normal way?”  
“But we must protect the human mother! She must not be distressed! To do that…to distress the mother…that is now and has been for a very long time, completely unacceptable.”  
“True, but you are aware of the decimation caused within the Federation worlds, indeed non-Federation worlds as well as a result of first the Dominion War, quickly followed by the Borg incursion.”  
“I am aware.What of it?”  
“Do you know the term, orphan?”  
The adviser shook his head.  
“Ah. Orphelin?”  
Again the adviser shook his softly glowing head.   
“It is a word used to describe a child who has no parents. There a millions of human orphans, all ages, from infants to late adolescents of both genders, made that way by the recent conflicts. It is true I have been in psionic contact with my brother and yes, I know you are aware of my ongoing and growing unease at how the conscience is procured. But what if I offered a different way, one which would satisfy both the people and the dilemma my brother faces and quash my own disquiet?”  
The adviser regarded his conscience and didn’t quite know what to make of it all. On the one hand, the man seemed to be functioning as he always had. Thoughtful and in accordance with the needs of the people, but on the other hand, he was suggesting a fundamental shift away from the established status quo. It was at the same time disturbing and exhilarating.  
Javier watched as the adviser’s hands remained raised, but no text appeared on his sleeve screen. He had no alternative but to wait.  
Several long minutes passed as the adviser wrestled with this new and exciting yet frightening concept. Eventually text appeared.  
“We must go now, the main council awaits.”  
Before they rose in the cramped space, Javier asked quietly, “May I know your thoughts?”  
“I must refuse to give them, but not as a matter of disrespect, more as I am undecided. In truth I am not qualified to even consider such matters. That is for the main council.”  
Javier made no move to leave, causing the adviser to wait.  
“If the decision is up to the main council, then what is my function? What has been the true function of the conscience all these thousands of years? To be a bouc émissaire of some kind?”  
“Bouc émissaire?”  
Javier frowned, squeezing his braid harder. “It is…” He shook his head, then his expression changed as the sought-for word came to him. “Scapegoat.”  
“I do not know what that word means.”  
“It means being made the person responsible even if one is not at fault.”  
“I see. Well like you, I have known of the existence of the main council, but until recently I have had no information as to its function. Perhaps we can learn together?”  
His subtle hint they should leave wasn’t lost on Javier. He finally rose and gestured for his friend to exit through the narrow passage ahead of him. What awaited him he had no idea. Neither of them did.

 

To Javier’s relieved surprise the main council was not some kind of forbidding cadre of beings who seemed to wish to pronounce any kind of summary or arbitrary edicts upon him. Instead it was a collection of ten beings, male and female who sat with him in a quiet supportive atmosphere. There didn’t seem to be a leader per se, they spoke to him as individuals as the need arose.  
Having settled in his comfortable seat, his adviser by his side, Javier asked the one question that burned in his mind.  
“What is your purpose?”  
A being to his right lifted her hands and Javier directed his eyes to his screen.  
“We exist to serve.”  
“Me or the people?”  
“Both.”  
“Do you scrutinise me…my decisions?”  
“Only where it seems you, or past consciences may have not interpreted the law as he should. It is unreasonable to expect any being to be perfect. Of course errors can and do occur. Our purpose is to simply…watch and listen.”  
“And if an error is made?”  
“Then we make it known to the conscience’s adviser and it is his task to…steer…the conscience back to the correct path. The very presence of your adviser with you now suggests to us that he may have reservations about our decision. That has never occurred before and has given us reason to hear you.”  
Javier’s expression was frankly sardonic as was his tone. “I was under the impression I summoned you.”  
“Indeed you did, but given the present circumstances, this meeting of the council would have occurred anyway.”  
“Then tell me, who do you represent? Are you the overseeing body for the exclusive use of the conscience or do you serve the people?”  
“That is a difficult question to answer simply. We are both, but as you know, no one person or group of people can have more authority among our people than any other. That is not only the cornerstone of our society, but the reason we have a conscience.”  
Another being took up the conversation. “It is a very delicate balance we must maintain. Yes, we do oversee the function of the conscience, but in doing so we also serve the people, but not as an overriding entity. We can no more force a decision on them than we can do so with you. However we do possess the means by which we can bring about the conclusion. And that would be done in the name of the people.”  
“But that is a contradiction!” Protested Javier. “How can you say no one person or group of people can be more or less powerful than another if you have the means by which you can impose the conclusion on me and my family?”  
Another being answered. “That brings us back to the fact no one is perfect. Not our people or any other.”  
“Then what about after the transcendence? Surely being nothing but pure thought and energy, able to exist everywhere at once makes you perfect as a species?”  
“We do not know that, although that is our hope. But you only have to look at the omnipotent species who call themselves the Q Continuum to see that omnipotence does not inure the holder to the vagaries of personal choice. Some Q are benevolent, acting in what could be called a moral sense, but others use their powers for their own amusement, often to the detriment of their victims but even that is a judgement we are not qualified to make. What one society sees as right or moral may be at complete odds with another’s view. We cannot impose our concepts of the way in which we conduct ourselves on others. You know that.”  
“Yes,” said Javier, not bothering to hide his sarcasm. “Our version of the Prime Directive.”  
“No matter what you choose to call it, we do not know if we will even function as a society once we transcend. We can only hope that we retain our sense of what we feel is right at least as it pertains to us.”  
There was a silence before yet another of the council gestured, “You summoned us because you stated things must change. You have been in psionic contact with your brother. Has he influenced you?”  
Javier took a deep breath and automatically reached for his braid. “I cannot deny I have changed since first learning of my brother’s…my identical twin brother’s existence and that change only deepened upon meeting him. But although my perception of myself has changed, my dedication to my people has not.”  
“To which people do you refer?”  
The anger and offence was clear in Javier’s voice. “Must you ask?”  
One of the beings held out her hand, palm up. “We do not mean to offend. Our purpose is to seek clarification, nothing more.”  
“Very well,” said a still angry Javier. “To clarify, I am for my people…your people. That will never change!”   
“Thank you. We are gratified and relieved. Now what was it you meant by things must change?”  
Gathering his thoughts, Javier modulated his deep, rich voice. “You are aware of course, of the recent conflicts the Federation has endured. First the Dominion War, then the Borg Incursion. That has left millions of human orphans…that is a word that means…”  
He was interrupted by a being near his left. “We know what the word means.”  
“Well, my brother has been…troubled…by the way in which we procure the conscience. It contravenes Federation law and…”  
Again he was interrupted. “That is of no consequence. We are not part of the Federation, nor are we within their territory. Their laws do not apply to us.”  
“No they do not.” agreed Javier. “But the very fact I am human and I was procured from Earth puts my brother in a difficult position as he has given his oath, his solemn vow to uphold the laws of the Federation and through that he is obliged to rescue me from my situation.” The man smiled with genuine warmth. “Not that I require rescuing. Nevertheless, the situation as it stands presents my brother with a dilemma.”  
One of the council raised his hands high. “That is irrelevant! He has no authority or right to…”  
Holding up his own hand, Javier silenced the vexed being. “I am aware of that, indeed my brother accepts our sovereignty and our right to conduct our society as we see fit, but it is at odds with his sense of duty.” Before any more protests could be made, the conscience continued. “My brother’s one has come up with an idea…a proposal that may suit both our needs and in the process resolve any further dilemmas.”  
“We are not aware of any needs that require meeting.” Gestured a taller being. The council began to glow, forcing Javier to don his eye shield. He waited until his adviser gently tapped his shoulder to let him know he could take it off. He still had to squint in the slowly diminishing light.  
“My brother’s one is a healer. Using their medical technology, which admittedly is primitive by our standards, she isolated a strand of DNA from one of my children and has determined the transcendence will take place within the coming one hundred years, certainly no longer than that. She…”  
“What purpose does that serve? The transcendence will take place when we have reached the appropriate time. Knowing when, even in a broad sense is irrelevant.”  
“Yes, but considering the ongoing difficulty the Federation will have with us if we do not change our practice of procurement…”  
“Again, irrelevant. They can do nothing to change what we know is right.”  
“True, but would it not be politic to at least try to find a compromise? If my brother’s one is correct and I believe she is, then the people are only going to require one more conscience. Instead of procuring him in the traditional way, why not utilise my brother’s suggestion?”  
“Which you still have not told us.”  
“The orphans. The Federation has been decimated. Those worlds not completely destroyed have been either partially destroyed or, rarely, left unscathed and those worlds are bearing the brunt of caring for billions of refugees. The Federation lacks the infrastructure, resources, materiel…it will take many, many years for them to recover. In the meantime the growing power of the geo-political entity we know as the Typhon Pact lurks, biding their time until they feel it is opportune to strike, attacking the Federation while it is virtually helpless.”  
“That is not our concern. The political situation outside our sphere of influence is no business of ours. It is why we have always remained as uninvolved as we have.”  
“Yes,” agreed the conscience. “But what if the new power that would emerge, an expanded Typhon Pact, joined by beings aligned by aggression and the desire for expansion were to see us as a tantalizing possession?”  
Most of the council shrugged in a unified expression of unconcern. One of their number raised her hands. “It matters not. Not even the Borg could affect us and we have been dealing with them for centuries. Besides, once we transcend…”  
“And what happens to all we have here?” Asked Javier pointedly. “I assume once the transcendence takes place you will have no need for all that exists here. Would you have that fall into the hands of aggressors?”  
The council members looked at each other, obviously disturbed.  
“That had not occurred to us.”  
“Well it should have, but if I may, if all we have here is indeed left, who better to inherit your legacy than the Federation? After all, at their core, are they so different from us? Their moral sense, their sense of fairness and justice…their self-determination?”  
“That may be so, but who is to say they will be the ones to inherit? If what you have said is true about the Typhon Pact it would seem, given the current state of affairs within the worlds of the Federation, it would be the Typhon Pact with its ancillary aggressive members who would be the ones to take advantage of anything we left behind.”  
Javier smiled and squeezed his braid with both hands. “Not if a suitable conscience was here when the transcendence takes place…or…”  
“Or?”  
“The people take more responsibility for their own destiny before the transcendence.”  
“On both accounts…how do you envisage this?”  
“Again, I bring your attention back to the orphans. It has been suggested to me it might be possible to select a volunteer human male of approximately ten or twelve years of age, accompanied by either a relative or a companion, male or female to become the new conscience.”  
The council members were so shocked their hands dropped to their sides. Javier pressed on. “Of course any prospective individual would have to be carefully assessed, but I have been assured there is a plethora to choose from and the opportunity to serve our people would be seen as a very attractive proposition.” He continued quickly, while the council members remained mute, stunned into silence.  
“Our education of the chosen individual would have to be accelerated and he would have to undergo the journey, but taking into account he would already have been deemed psychologically stable and adaptable, I see no impediment.”  
Finally a female lifted her hands tentatively. “Why are you suggesting he have a human companion?”  
“Because he may want to reproduce. As you know, it matters not the genders of the prospective parents as long as they are not related…even the Federation medical members can achieve that.”  
“But we have always provided the one.”  
“And in doing so sprung a very subtle, very cruel trap.”  
Several member shot their arms out rigid and almost trembling.  
“How dare you! The people have never been cruel to the conscience!”  
“Haven’t they? I know neither my one nor my children can ever leave this complex. I can though. I can even leave the planet! I was told along with the fact I’d been chosen to serve that I could, at any time I wished, leave. But once I had taken my one and reproduced with her, I could no more leave than cut off my own head! It is for that reason the people conspired to make it so the conscience had to stay! And I never questioned it. Why would I? But then I found my brother.”  
He sighed and shook his head. “You know, my brother’s one, Beverly Crusher…when we first met, she mentioned the odds…the chances that because of the way we procure the conscience, it was always going to be possible, even given our shyness, that one day a conscience could meet a relative. Well, it has happened. There is an old Earth saying. ‘Le chat est sorti du sac.’ The cat is out of the bag. Simply put, your secret is no longer a secret.”  
The members lowered their arms. Some even bowed their heads and their glow faded. One gestured with her hands held low, “And what about the people? What did you mean when you referred to them taking more responsibility for their own destiny?”  
“The healers we would compel to conclude. Do you realise why they acted as they did?”  
“No. All we know is that the male acted without the proper authority and in doing so not only contravened our ways, but compromised a sympathetic but misguided colleague.”  
Javier closed his eyes and shook his head. “You would call saving two lives a contravention of our ways and the female who assisted misguided?”  
Several members looked at each other, once again nonplussed. “Lives were saved?” asked one.  
“Yes!” Javier said firmly. “That healer and his colleague showed initiative and compassion! Not deliberate defiance of our ways. But most importantly they exhibited free thought! They took responsibility when it mattered most. Now if they can do that, then so can the rest of our society. It need not equate to chaos! You…and me as well…have not given our people credit. Surely, as the people get closer and closer to the transcendence they are going to have to become more self-reliant? Yes, once the transcendence takes place, perhaps you might become one, single entity, but then again, perhaps not! But if the people are never given the opportunity to discover for themselves what they are capable of, who is to say what might be possible? And if the new conscience worked with the people and not for the people or in place of the people, then a consensus could be reached.”  
“And if he and his…family wish to leave? What then?”  
Javier shrugged. “Do you think it really matters? Have you so little faith in the people? I will be here for some time yet while the new conscience is educated. During what time I have left I can not only assist in his learning, but I can begin to introduce the concept of free thought to the people. They know the transcendence is coming. A new concept would not be too hard for them to accept.”  
There was a lengthy silence before one of the members lifted his hands to the proper height to denote deep respect and bowed his head.  
“We require time to ponder these…astonishing new thoughts. Please allow us this time.”  
“Of course.” Javier said graciously but then added, “The Enterprise will remain in orbit, unmolested until we reach an agreement.”  
All of the council members stood and bowed as one. Javier didn’t have to be told to put his eye shield on. His adviser placed Javier’s hand on his shoulder and led him from the brilliantly lit room.

 

Although it was after 1400 hours, Jean-Luc and Beverly were eating coffee and croissants. Somehow it felt like morning and a breakfast meal was deemed appropriate. They’d been chatting about inconsequentialities, both doing their best to ease the underlying tension when Jean-Luc, his hand en route to his mouth with some croissant snapped his head up and closed his eyes. Beverly watched as his frown creased his brow.  
His brother’s voice sounded inside his mind. “Jean-Luc?”  
“Yes, Javier.”  
“I have spoken with the main council.”  
“And?”  
“They did not dismiss your suggestion.”  
“What about the healers?”  
“I am not certain, but I believe I may have been successful in reversing their conclusion.”  
“Well that’s a relief!” Jean-Luc made Beverly sigh by smiling. “So what happens now?” asked Jean-Luc.  
“The council has asked for time to consider these new ideas, but as you know, my people do not view time as you do. I cannot say how long they will deliberate, but if I may, perhaps, in the event they agree, you should set in motion whatever it is you must do to attain permission to find the suitable candidates? It would be best if we at least partially ready in the event they agree.”  
“Yes, that would be best, but I have to warn you, Javier, getting permission for this might not be easy. Even given the deplorable situation of the orphan population, the concept of the conscience will be a difficult one to sell to my superiors. I will explain he will be in the company of a relative or a companion and free to leave at any time, but to take two humans out of Federation space to serve an alien culture…”  
“I understand, Jean-Luc, but I do not believe there is an alternative. Quite apart from the fact the Federation cannot stop us; you lack the resources to even try. No, your superiors must see this as an attractive proposition and if not then simply as better than the alternative.”  
“Well, I still have reservations of my own, but on the face of it, je suis d′accord avec toi.”  
“Merci, Jean-Luc, I am pleased you agree with me. Now I must go. I have instructed the council that that your ship will stay in orbit, unmolested.”  
“Thank you. Javier, but if I may, can we discuss at a more opportune time, more about the main council?”  
Jean-Luc clearly heard the amusement in his brother’s voice. “Jamais l′explorateur, Jean-Luc?”  
The captain chuckled.  
“Yes, always the explorer, Javier, but can you blame me? After all, it is why we are out here in space.”  
“Ah oui, mon frère, l′étoile-voyageur.”  
“The star-traveller?” Jean-Luc chuckled again. “I rather like that. My first ship was called Stargazer.”  
“Then it is appropriate, n′est pas? Now I really must go. Au revoir, Jean-Luc.”  
“And you, Javier.”  
Jean-Luc’s eyes opened and he relaxed. He was only lightly sweating and he smiled at Beverly ruefully. She knew something was brewing.  
“It would seem we have a bit of manoeuvring to do with Command.”  
Beverly’s eyebrows shot up. “He’s accepted our plan?”  
Jean-Luc’s smile was both indulgent and filled with love and pride. “Your plan, but no. It’s up to the main council, but he’s given it his endorsement.”  
“The main council?” said a confused Beverly.   
Jean-Luc sighed and his brows knitted. “I’ll tell what I know, but it’s not much.”  
Beverly took the time to refill her coffee cup, placed one elbow on the table and rested her chin on her hand. “Shoot. I’m all ears”  
Jean-Luc offered a smile and began. “Well…”  
It took only a few minutes for Jean-Luc to impart all he knew about the main council. On completing his information he asked carefully, “You have no inkling of this group? You learned nothing about it on your journey through these peoples’ history?”  
Shaking her head, Beverly drained the dregs of her coffee, grimacing at its coldness. “No, all this is news to me. But when you think about it, I suppose there has to be checks and balances. Like you said, no one’s perfect and to put all your eggs in one basket…well that was always going to be dangerous without someone looking out for trouble.”  
“Hmm,” mused Jean-Luc thoughtfully. “Tell me more about their society, Beverly. You’ve told me they have ways and means to deal with civic disputes?”  
“Uh huh. At the most basic, a dispute between say, two or three individuals is usually settled by the addition of another. The problem is discussed and a resolution acceptable by all is reached. If the dispute involves larger numbers it can escalate to a civic forum where the grievances are aired, each individual…or group…given adequate and equal time and then, a chosen number which is dependent on how large or serious the dispute is, then weighs up all the evidence and arrives at a decision. But it’s not an adjudication or a judgment, like the conscience’s decisions, the people aren’t bound by these…resolutions. It’s my feeling their sense of community and the value of their society is so ingrained, it never occurs to them to even consider rejecting the resolutions, large or small. Of course the really big decisions are presented as petitions to the conscience.”  
She sighed and pulled her lips to one side.  
“Do you think the main council is like that? A group of concerned citizens who wish to act on behalf of everyone to maintain the peace and balance of their society?”  
Jean-Luc’s frown marred his handsome face. “I’m not sure, Beverly. Going on what little Javier told me, it seems it may be more than that. They do, for instance, have the power to pronounce a conclusion. Javier was unaware anyone but he could do that.”  
“But, Jean-Luc, my understanding of this species is that they don’t put any of their number above or below another. If the main council indeed has some kind of covert power, why have a conscience? I mean I get it, the whole nobody’s perfect bit, but it seems to me we have a double standard at work here.”  
Wiping his mouth with his serviette, Jean-Luc put it down with care. “Well, until Javier finds out more and tells me, we’ll just have to wait. Personally I find this speculation unproductive.”  
Beverly smiled knowingly. “Especially when you’re facing a very uncomfortable chat with Command.”  
His smile was a rueful one. “There are times, Beverly mon coeur, when your perspicacity is a pain in my arse.”  
Her warm laughter made Jean-Luc grin. Beverly rose from the table and went to stand behind her husband, gently massaging his neck and shoulders. She bent to whisper, “This pain in your arse loves you and just so you know, I don’t envy the task ahead of you.”  
He lifted his hands to still hers and turned so he could place a tender kiss on her temple.  
“Thank you, Beverly. I love you too. I should tell you more often.”  
She gently nuzzled his neck and purred, “No need, just as long as you keep demonstrating it!”  
He closed his eyes and sighed as Beverly let out a cheeky giggle at seeing the suspicious bulge in his pants.  
“You did that deliberately, didn’t you.”  
“Yeah, well…it took your mind of the call you have to make.”  
“True, but I would find it hard to stand up right now, so how am I going to get to my desk?”  
“You find it hard, do you? I think I can help with that.”  
How they managed to successfully make love sitting at the dinner table and remarkably quickly at that, kept a ghost of a smile on Jean-Luc’s face for hours afterwards. In fact as the contact with Command was going to take several hours, it wasn’t until he was finally viewing the relayed communiqué that his expression sobered.

 

He had left Beverly to sleep as the relayed connection wasn’t made until the early hours of the following morning. Having had so many hours to reflect and plan his strategy, Jean-Luc felt, if not exactly confident, then at least well ready to face the uphill battle…and he knew where to begin or rather, with whom.  
It was the dipping of the mattress as Jean-Luc came to bed that stirred Beverly. She mewed and turned over, cracking open one eye to peer at her husband as he eased himself into the bed. “What time is it?” she mumbled, barely coherent.  
“Early.” Jean-Luc replied quietly. “Go back to sleep.”  
She pushed her pillow about and tried to settle, but she knew he’d been up most of the night. Forcing herself properly awake, Beverly said carefully, “Can you take the day off?”  
“Not really,” he smiled. “Too much to do.”  
“So, what happened? Did she shoot you down in flames?”  
Jean-Luc knew who Beverly was referring to and it made him smile. “Actually, she doesn’t know yet.”  
That made Beverly rise up on her elbow and stare down at her husband who was lying on his back, dressed in nothing but his briefs, his hands clasped on his chest.  
“Admiral Alynna Nechayev doesn’t know? How come? How the hell did you keep it out of her reach?”  
He snorted; his small smile fading. “Oh, this won’t last, I know that. It’s just that I needed a sympathetic ear…actually several sympathetic ears, not one ear that simply wouldn’t listen.”  
“So who did you talk to?” Beverly was now intrigued and felt her hopes rising.  
“I began with Ito N’Somika, he brought in Frank Jessop and he recruited Maryann Nicholls.”  
“Wow! Big brass!” Beverly was suitably impressed. “Okay, you were loaded for bear. What did they say?”  
“Initially they were…unenthusiastic and that’s putting it mildly. But as I gave them more and more information they began to see the entire situation in a kinder light…and a more humane one.”  
Beverly tone was sarcastic as she remarked, “Which Nechayev certainly wouldn’t! That woman has ice water running through her veins. The only thing she’d see would be any strategic advantage she could wring out of it.” Beverly sat up and ran her fingers through her hair, trying to restore some kind of order to her chaotic fiery mane. “Oh, yes…a human, maybe two humans in a position she would view as powerful in a technologically advanced species…oh, a foot in the door and a potent ally to throw in the face of the Typhon Pact! Jesus, Jean-Luc! She’d have this tied up with a Royal blue ribbon and delivered to the Federation Council even before we could begin our search for a suitable candidate.”  
“Which is why I avoided her like the proverbial plague! What I had to establish with N’Somika and the others was the unique situation we’re dealing with here. As you know, if the aliens reject Javier’s proposal…” he smiled, his dark eyes twinkling. “…your proposal, then it won’t matter how much Nechayev wants to push this through, it simply won’t happen and as we all know there’s not a damned thing we can do about it. Even at full strength…” he shook his head. “…it would be like a group of tiny, stingless ants trying to affect an elephant.”  
“Yeah…okay, so they understand?”  
“I think so, yes. There was the predictable and understandable adverse reaction to the concept of having a human child or two seconded to an alien world, to all intents and purposes cut off from all contact with the Federation and the unpalatable fact that this situation will not benefit us strategically…” he sighed. “It took some very judicious use of the language, but eventually I got them to see reason. Ultimately it was the deplorable situation we have with the orphans that tipped the balance. Finding something…anything even remotely as potentially satisfying, rewarding and safe, even for just two children…well, let’s just say it stirred a glimmer of hope in them.”  
Beverly’s face changed, the light in her eyes seemed to dim. “They’re all parents, aren’t they?” Her tone was gentle, but bleak.  
At first the tacit reference was missed, but then Jean-Luc’s heart sank. “Yes.” He said softly.  
Her smile was forced and didn’t reach her eyes. “Oh, well, at least all this…” she waved vaguely at the opaqued viewport, “…has managed to distract us from our own worries.”  
When Jean-Luc remained silent, Beverly shook her head. “It’s okay, Jean-Luc…really. I think what we’re doing is good.” Her smile grew to genuine warmth and his gratitude made his eyes mist.   
“Hey…you can be the poster-boy for orphan relocation! All we have to do is find out-of-the-way alien worlds with a penchant for human kids to raise as planetary rulers!”  
Her tears fell completely at odds with her smiling face. Jean-Luc rolled to his side and took her into his arms. “Well,” he said softly, “If I can melt Nechayev’s heart, with the help of the other admirals of course…anything’s possible.”  
Softly snorting, Beverly lay quietly, just savouring the feeling of the warm solidity of her husband’s body. Jean-Luc’s voice rumbled through his chest. “Of course all this is moot if the main council fails to agree with Javier’s petition.”  
“You know something, Jean-Luc? All we’ve been doing since we got here is waiting.” She sounded defeated and sad.  
“I know,” he sighed. “I’m just as frustrated as you.”  
They lay in silence for a while before Beverly asked very quietly, “Are you going to be able to leave him, Jean-Luc?”  
He knew she meant Javier and he sighed again. “It’s not a matter of whether or not either of us can leave the other. We have no choice, Beverly. I must leave him eventually. I…we…can only hope our connection sustains us, as it’s most unlikely we’ll ever actually see each other again.”  
“Not even for the checkups on the children?”  
“I can request we be the ship to do it, Beverly, but I can’t guarantee we’ll be given the assignment. In fact, some in the command hierarchy may deem my relationship with Javier as an impediment, especially as the aliens will continue to refuse to assist the Federation. At least in that they won’t give the Federation what it wants.”  
“Damn.” Beverly said through gritted teeth. “Someone’s always pulling our strings. Do you ever get tired of it?”  
“Part and parcel, my love. We’re in a better position than most.”  
The spectre of their failed pregnancies surfaced again and Beverly grimaced.  
“Yeah, in some ways yes, but definitely not in others.”  
Gathering her closer, Jean-Luc mumbled, “I have to get up in about two hours. Let’s try and get some sleep.”  
“Hmm…’Kay.”  
Jean-Luc did slip into a restless doze, but Beverly stayed awake, her mind refusing to put her sorrow back in its box.

 

Even though he’d had sleep his eyes felt gritty as Jean-Luc walked through the corridors of his ship on the way to the bridge, but a query of the computer had him alter course until he found himself outside Will’s quarters. The door opened and Will’s eyes widened. Charlotte seemed to sense her father’s disquiet and crowed her complaint.  
“Captain!” blurted Will, his face flushing. “Ah, I was just on my way up to the bridge sir, I, that is…um…”  
Summoning an understanding smile, Jean-Luc said quietly, “It’s quite all right, number one. Everything on the ship is functioning, we’re just marking time. There’s no need for you to rush up to the bridge. Stay here, in your quarters a while…spend some quality time with your daughter…in fact,” the captain’s smile grew. “I’m relieving you of duty until further notice. You’ve both been through a lot.”  
Will tried to protest but Jean-Luc would have none of it. Eventually Will capitulated. He stared lovingly down at his little girl and said reverently, “I can’t seem to put her down. I just need to hold her all the time.” He looked up, his eyes suspiciously moist. “I know it makes no sense but…”  
“Will,” Jean-Luc said gently, placing a paternal hand on the exec’s shoulder. “I want you to talk with Counsellor Adams…as soon as possible.”  
Nodding, Will sniffed and then sighed. “I will, Captain. I know I need to talk to him...I’ve just been putting it off.”  
Jean-Luc’s smile was sympathetic. “Well, I know what that’s like. You rest now and enjoy your time with Charlotte, but I expect you to make an appointment today.”  
“Aye, Captain.”  
As Jean-Luc turned to leave, Will said, “And sir? Will you keep me in the loop please?”  
Jean-Luc couldn’t help but smile. Despite his overwhelming need to be with his daughter, Will, steadfast as usual, would not ignore his duty.   
“Yes, number one, if you’re required, I’ll summon you.”  
“Thank you, sir.”  
As Jean-Luc walked away he found he couldn’t quell the surge of envy that swept over him. He knew exactly what it was and why he felt it and it shamed him, but he was helpless to stop it. “Oh, Will,” he thought. “You’re so very lucky.”  
Will stood facing the closed doors, his heart accelerating. Before he lost his nerve he kissed Charlotte’s head and then lifted his voice to say, “Riker to Adams.”  
In his office several decks below, Patrick Adams’ eyebrows rose. He had been waiting for a call from Will; in fact he was almost at the point of making the call himself. He made sure his voice was steady and calm as he responded. “Adams here, Commander. Go ahead.”  
“Counsellor, I would like to talk with you as soon as possible, but if it’s all right with you, could we do it here…in my quarters?”  
Adams grinned and Will thought he could hear it in the man’s voice. “Of course sir. When would be convenient?”  
“Now, Counsellor. If I don’t start right now, I’m going to chicken out.”  
Will’s frank admission made Adams chuckle as it had been meant to. “Well, we can’t have that, now can we. I’ll be there shortly, Commander. Adams out.”  
Will kissed Charlotte again then shifted her so she was upright and held against his chest. She grabbed fistfuls of his uniform tunic and gently bumped her cheek on his bearded face. Will chuckled and growled, “If you’re anything like your mom, little Charlotte, your skin is going to go all red if you play with my beard.”  
The baby lifted her head and stared solemnly into her father’s eyes. He snorted at the pink stain spreading across her cheek. “Told you so.” He grinned. Charlotte just stared.  
For the next three days precisely nothing happened. Jean-Luc had deliberately eschewed even attempting to contact Javier, psionically or otherwise, so he was surprised when, on the morning of the fourth day, as he shaved, a call came from the bridge.  
Beverly, on hearing the call, came into the bathroom and leaned against the door frame as her towel-clad and otherwise naked husband lowered the hand holding the isorazor to respond. “Picard. Go ahead.”  
“Captain, we’ve received a text message asking to interface with you.”  
“Very well, direct it down to my quarters please. Picard out.”  
He quickly finished shaving and tossed on his tunic and nothing else. Padding bare foot and still with just the towel around his waist, he sat at his desk and aligned the monitor. Inside he tried to quell the rising panic as his thought over and over, “Have they done something to Javier? Should I try to connect with him?”  
Instead he said out loud, “I’m here.”  
The screen blinked and went from its standby blue to a dark grey. Text began to scroll.  
“Captain Picard we have matters we wish to discuss with you.”  
“To whom am I speaking?”  
“We are the main council.”  
“I see.” Jean-Luc’s dread was growing. “And my brother, the conscience?”  
“He is not with us, but do not be perturbed. He and his family are well and he has not been rendered incapable of connecting with you, but we must request that while we interface with you, please refrain from connecting with him. He has agreed with this request. Will you comply also?”  
“Yes, but only as long as I can be assured he and his family are in no danger.”  
“You have our assurance.”  
“Very well. What is it you wish to discuss?”  
“We have been giving much thought and discussion to the proposal the conscience has put to us. He raised some issues we had not anticipated and we have found ourselves in a difficult position, one which we find we cannot resolve.”  
“I see. And my brother can’t help?”  
“No, the information we seek he cannot provide.”  
“But you think I can?”  
“That is our hope.”  
Jean-Luc rubbed his fingers over his lower lip and sighed. “Well of course I will do whatever I can to assist you.”  
“Thank you, Captain Picard. You are aware of our impending transcendence.”  
“Yes.”  
“It is not something we dwell upon as we know it will occur when we are ready, whether that is in one hundred years or a thousand or more is irrelevant. It will happen, that is all that matters. But what we had not considered but should have; is what becomes of what we have created here. Our scientists and healers have concluded that once we make the transcendence, we will no longer have any need for the physical manifestations of our lives as they are now. Our cities, our vast collection of knowledge in its physical form, our repository, the collector dishes, our manufactured star…all these things and more we will no longer require. But as the conscience has pointed out, if we are to leave a legacy, we would not wish it to fall into the hands of those who would use it…all of it…to perpetrate acts of aggression upon others. That would be an anathema to us; it would be completely at odds with every philosophy we adhere to. If we were to acceded to the idea of a human child…a volunteer…accompanied by another human, related or not…would it be possible for a representative of your Federation to interface with us to put in place an agreement that the chosen child grow to understand that he must eventually liaise with the Federation at the time of our transcendence so that it is the Federation who inherits our legacy?”  
Excitement made Jean-Luc’s mouth dry and he had to swallow to make sure his voice emerged steady. “I think that can be arranged, yes. But I would have to point out that in the mean time, as the child grows and throughout his tenure as the conscience…provided he stays…the Federation would still be very vulnerable. If we don’t find help, someone with the power to protect us as we rebuild and recover, we may not exist as a cohesive entity when you make your transcendence. And if that’s the case, no agreement made now would matter. Whoever held the power at that time would inherit your legacy whether you wanted it that way or not.”  
“We anticipated this reaction from you and it saddens us. You would draw us into your conflicts to protect yourselves? We are not power brokers, Captain, nor would we enforce peace by implied threats of violence.”  
“You wouldn’t have to!” protested Jean-Luc. “I’m not for one second suggesting you stand guard with a club, ready and willing to dash the brains out of any aggressor, far from it and to be perfectly frank, I’m offended you believe I would think like that!”  
“Then what do you suggest?”  
Jean-Luc had to take a calming breath. “All you would have to do is make it known, not by making any kind of announcement or ostentatious display, just by subtle, yet unmistakable signs that you are…aligned with us. The very hint that your people are kindly disposed towards the Federation will be enough to keep any aggressor at bay. You may be little known, but I have absolutely no doubt that those who would covet what we have and be only too willing to attempt to take it while we are weakened would know of you, if only through anecdotal evidence. I can’t see anyone being so foolish to risk attacking the Federation as long as even a rumour exists that we have a powerful ally, even one who chooses to remain on the sidelines…until required to help.”  
There was a lengthy silence and Beverly came to stand at Jean-Luc’s side, her hand resting on his shoulder. When more text appeared, they sighed with relief.  
“Your words hold wisdom, Captain Picard. We have known of the Federation since its inception and we have been impressed by your tenets. It is why we chose to ask for assistance from your most prominent healer. Humankind has come a long way and it is to your credit that you have become the benevolent entity you are now, albeit a crippled one. We agree. We will recall the procurers and await your candidates for our perusal. As to the other conditions, as the conscience has given us more to think about and discuss which pertains to the people, we will need to interface with you again as our decisions on these matters will impact on how the new conscience will function. But generally we feel a consensus is within reach.”  
“I am deeply gratified and I thank you. I also wish to commend you. It is no simple matter to alter the habits, indeed the very fabric of a society as quickly as you are willing to. That speaks of intelligence and tolerance. Again, I commend you all.”  
“Your praise amuses us, Captain, but we accept it in the spirit in which it was given. Now, we assume you wish to connect with the conscience?”  
“Yes, I do.”  
“Then by all means, do so with our blessing. But Captain Picard, you must leave soon. The people have made it known they wish to reassert their privacy. They know such luxuries may be lost soon and they wish to take advantage of it as long as they can.”  
Bowing his head in sadness, Jean-Luc said quietly, “I understand. Thank you.”  
The screen reverted to its blue standby mode and Jean-Luc wasted no time in concentrating. “Javier?”  
“I am here, Jean-Luc.”  
“You know?”  
“Yes. It is good news, n′est pas?”  
“Yes, very good news.”  
“And you, mon frère? How has your quest gone? Avez-vous rencontré le succès?”  
“Oui, we have met with success, but nothing will happen quickly. First we have to get this ratified by the Federation Council, then we have the task of finding willing candidates within the correct age bracket and then assess them. Then, once two suitable candidates have been found, we must be sure they are indeed orphans. It will take time, Javier. This is by no means an easy task.”   
“I thought as much. But you need not worry too much, Jean-Luc. I will be the conscience for a long time yet and it would seem my role will be slowly changing. Already moves are afoot to create more interaction between the people and me. It is even being mooted my image may be made public.”  
“Large steps indeed. You have done well, Javier, I am so very proud of you!”   
“If you are proud of me, Jean-Luc it is only because of what I have learned from you…and Beverly. Mon frère et sœur.”  
Jean-Luc chuckled, shaking his head. “You don’t know this, Javier, but I often wished I had a sister when I was young. Now we both have one. Beverly is your sister and your one is mine.”  
Javier’s voice grew sombre. “You must leave very soon, Jean-Luc.”  
“I know.”  
“I will miss you, mon grand frère.”  
“And I you, mon petit frère.”  
“Jean-Luc…I don’t want to say au revoir.”  
“Then don’t. We’ll just leave it as adieu.”  
“Oui. Adieu, then, Jean-Luc.”  
“Adieu, Javier. But I will connect occasionally. It’s the task of the older brother to watch over his younger brother.”  
Javier’s soft laugh lightened the mood. “Very well, Jean-Luc. I acceded to your seniority.”

 

The Enterprise left orbit five hours later. Nothing more had been said between the brothers.  
Jean-Luc was in his ready room when the chime sounded. He was half way through making what was turning out to be a very lengthy and detailed report about the entire episode and scowled at the thought of being interrupted. He wanted this job done for as long as it remained in his mind it caused him pain. Nevertheless, he would never put his private concerns above that of his duty to his crew, so he bid that caller entry. He was mildly surprised and discomfited to see Counsellor Patrick Adams.  
Making sure his command visage was firmly in place, Jean-Luc said quietly, “Counsellor Adams. What can I do for you?”  
“Good afternoon, Captain. I do hope I’m not disturbing you.”  
Jean-Luc dredged up a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Not at all.”  
Patrick noted he hadn’t been invited to sit. “I just wanted to ask if it would be all right if I dropped by your quarters this evening? I would like to talk with both you and Doctor Crusher.”  
Jean-Luc knew it was pointless to ask what it was the counsellor wanted to talk about, he had a fair idea anyway. He sat back and gave the man a measured look, noting his obvious weight loss. “It would be best if you waited a little longer, Counsellor. Doctor Crusher has been through…”  
“Please, Captain.” Patrick risked Jean-Luc’s icy glare as he interrupted the man. “I know what Doctor Crusher’s been through and I also know what you’ve been though and I’m sorry, sir, but I’ve waited long enough. The time has come, Captain. No more avoiding it, please.”  
Gritting his teeth, Jean-Luc gave a moment’s thought to ordering the man from his office, but that would achieve nothing. So, after talking a deep breath, Jean-Luc said quietly, 20 hundred hours.”  
A relieved Adams summoned a smile, so glad he no longer sweated profusely. He knew he had to wait to be dismissed and was a little confused when Jean-Luc said nothing. He knew his captain was annoyed, but the counsellor thought his leaving would’ve calmed the man. He wondered why he was still in the room. He soon found out.  
“How is Commander Riker?”  
Understanding made Patrick smile.  
“He’s doing well, Captain. Although he’s still suffering from mild anxiety and the lingering effects of his experiences, I do feel he will be back to his old self soon.”  
“Good. I had relieved him of duty, but he made it known he wanted to come back and I allowed it. In your opinion is he fit for duty?”  
Nodding his head, Adams’ smile grew. “Yes, sir. In fact I believe it will speed his recovery if he’s allowed to resume his usual habits. He finds comfort in his work, Captain and knowing his daughter is waiting for him in his quarters at the end of his shift…well, it gives him all the incentive he needs to carry on.”  
Jean-Luc saw the knowing look on the counsellor’s face and felt a spike of irritation.  
“I see. Well it seems you have everything in hand, Counsellor. I will see you later this evening. Dismissed.”  
Once outside, Adams let out a long breath of relief. Why his CO intimidated him so much rankled the counsellor. He was well trained and had plenty of experience under his belt and it vexed him that he should be so wrong-footed by a fellow crew member. It didn’t matter that the man…his patient…was the captain of the ship. He’d counselled captains before; it had nothing to do with rank, rather something about the man himself.   
Will, on seeing the troubled look on Patrick’s face, sent him a sympathetic smile. The exec rose from his seat and escorted the counsellor to the lift. “Don’t worry, Patrick, he does that to everybody. Just remember he doesn’t bite.”  
Offering a wan smile, Adams entered the lift, but just before the doors hissed shut, Will added, “At least if he does, he’ll be sure to leave no lasting marks.”  
Will was grinning as he made his way back to the big chair. The ensign at tactical saw the once familiar grin and was pleased, thinking it’d been far too long since she’d seen it.

 

Beverly had noticed her husband was somewhat pensive, even more than usual. Since leaving his brother’s planet, he had been a little withdrawn and she’d offered comfort, but not in an obvious way. As was his habit he tended to wish to work things out for himself, although their marriage had improved that somewhat, and he was making an effort to be more open with her.   
It was over dinner, which he wasn’t taking all that much interest in that he said quietly, “Counsellor Adams will be dropping by at 20 hundred.”  
This was news to Beverly, but like Jean-Luc she’d been expecting it. “So, the sword of Damocles is about to fall.”  
He snorted and pushed his plate away. “I don’t want to do this, Beverly. I know the sadness, the grief is still there, but I thought we’d been making progress.” He studied her face and frowned at what he saw. “We were, weren’t we?”  
Her smile didn’t hide her sadness. “No, Jean-Luc, we weren’t. The whole business with Javier and the children and everything that followed, like I said, it took our minds off our worries, but it didn’t expunge them, my love. We were so damned busy…so wrapped up in what we had found ourselves in…” she sighed. “…is it any wonder we shoved our private concerns into to the depths of our minds?”  
He sighed too. “Out of sight, out of mind.” He sounded disgusted. “I’ve been selfish again, haven’t I.”  
“No,” Beverly smiled. “Not selfish, Jean-Luc. Just…distracted.”  
Beverly’s cutlery clattered as she placed them on her plate, her half-eaten meal now cold. Like Jean-Luc she had little appetite.  
“Well, we’d best prepare.”  
The captain frowned. “Prepare? Are you suggesting some kind of strategy?” There was a trace of hope in his voice and a glimmer of defiance in his eyes. Beverly quashed that immediately. “No! What I meant was that we find a calm mind set, Jean-Luc. Look, we both know our default mechanisms are to first withdraw; then, if pushed, come out all guns blazing. Well neither is going to work. We have to accept we need help and that Patrick Adams is the person who is going to provide that help.”  
“I still don’t like it.” he grouched.  
Beverly rose from the table and went to him, bending to place a kiss on his bald head. “You don’t have to like it, Jean-Luc, just don’t fight it. Please?”  
He took one of her hands and looked up into her eyes. That was all that was required. He nodded; words unnecessary. He would do anything in his power to help Beverly, even at the cost of his own soul.  
They were remarkably calm as the appointed hour approached and when the chime sounded Jean-Luc bade the counsellor to enter in a mild voice. Patrick was understandably nervous, but he felt the change in the room as soon as he entered. There was no chilliness, no adversarial looks, both the captain and CMO were seated together on the sofa and to Patrick’s astonishment, they were holding hands.  
He looked about in confusion, not knowing where to sit but Jean-Luc’s softly worded, “Please, Counsellor, take my seat.” and the accompanying gesture towards Jean-Luc’s favourite chair only served to bolster Patrick’s confidence. He took the seat, a little tentative at first, but soon relaxed as both senior officers smiled with genuine warmth.  
“So,” began Jean-Luc. “Fire away, Counsellor. What do you want to know?”  
Patrick found a smile. “Well first, Captain, with your consent, I would prefer it if you addressed me by my given name. I find it easier to relate to my patients that way; however I don’t need or expect either of you to do the same. I’m quite content to address both of you by rank or position.”  
Having established that, the counsellor crossed his legs, smiling inwardly at the ability to do such a simple thing as not too long ago his thighs were too large to allow it. “So, who would like to start?”  
Jean-Luc looked at Beverly, smiled at her, then directed his steady gaze at the counsellor.  
“Since my wife has borne more of the brunt of our failure to successfully conceive, both physically and psychologically, and as I was tacitly responsible for her continuing with what was an obviously fruitless quest, perhaps she should be the one to begin.”  
Nodding, Patrick sent Beverly a look of kind support. “In situations like these, my first question would be to ask you how you feel, but as your last counsellor was empathic, no doubt you would find such a question disingenuous. So, rather than ask the obvious, I’m going to ask you to start at the beginning. Leave nothing…nothing out. Not events, feelings, fights, make ups…I want to know each and every aspect of what you’ve been through, physically and psychologically since you first decided to try for a family.”  
Beverly swallowed and closed her eyes, feeling Jean-Luc squeeze her hand. Her distress only grew when Patrick continued quietly, “And when we’ve covered all that, we’ll move on to the latest mission and your part in it.”  
He then turned to Jean-Luc. “Then, Captain, it’ll be your turn. And I’ll expect the same candour and honesty from you.”  
In the ensuing, tense silence, Jean-Luc said quietly, “It would seem we may be here for some time. Would you care for a drink, Counsellor?”  
Smiling his appreciation, Patrick nodded.   
“Yes please, sir. A sparkling mineral water?”  
Once Jean-Luc had settled back next to Beverly, everyone held a frosted glass. He took her hand again and stared at his glass. Patrick had his boutique water and the couple each had a lemon, lime and bitters. Beverly took a large swallow and set her jaw. “Right then. The beginning.”

 

By the time both Beverly and Jean-Luc had told everything, expressed all their pent-up, long hidden feelings it was just after 0300 and the coffee table was littered with empty glasses. Patrick stood and stretched, worn out and deeply sad. He had remained mostly silent through the litanies of highs and deep lows, of euphoria and depression. Hope and despair. He looked down at the drained couple and said gently, “I want you to rest now. You are both on medical leave for the next 48 hours. I will return the evening after next when we will discuss how I can help you. In the mean time, I will be devoting all my resources to tailoring your treatment.”  
He moved towards the doors, but hesitated and half-turned. “Doctor Crusher, you both may find sleep hard to find for what remains of tonight. Please avail yourselves of a sleep inducer if you deem it appropriate.” He sighed, wishing he could do more. “Good night, Captain. Doctor.”  
In the sudden silence of the quarters, Beverly cast a look at her husband. He was sitting back, his head resting on the backrest, his eyes closed. “How do you feel?” she whispered softly.  
He didn’t answer immediately, but she knew he would, so she was content to wait. Sure enough his deep, rough voice rumbled through his chest. “I feel like someone has reached inside me and ripped out my soul and bared it in public. I feel somehow…violated.”  
“Yes.” agreed Beverly in her strained whisper. “Violated.” She turned slightly and lifted a weary hand to gently caress his face. “I’m proud of you though. You did what he asked. You held nothing back.”  
“It was perhaps the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”  
Beverly’s soft snort made Jean-Luc frown.  
“You find it amusing?” His tone was slightly affronted.  
“Not amusing, Jean-Luc, ironic.”  
“How so?”  
“In the early years, when the ‘D’ was still new and Deanna and I were establishing our friendship, she used to complain bitterly at how closed you were with her. It used to frustrate the hell out of her. Then later, when we’d become best friends, she sometimes used to ask me to try and inveigle you to…you know...open up.”  
“But you never did.”  
“No, I never did.”  
Jean-Luc sighed. He felt he knew why. “You thought that if you asked me…or tried to inveigle me I would’ve done it to please you, not because I trusted Deanna.”  
“Yes. But the situation eventually resolved itself over the years and you came to trust her and be as open as she’d always wanted you to be.”  
“Deanna Troi.” Jean-Luc sighed. “Such a terrible loss…so tragic.”  
“Yes,” Beverly, her voice breaking. “Not a day goes by that I don’t think of her, Jean-Luc. We used to talk about everything. I not only lost my best female friend, I lost one of only two people in the universe who knows me…really knows me.”  
She turned and looked at her husband, tears trickling down her face. “You and Dee.”  
He stood and held out his hand. “Come to bed, ma belle épouse. I want to hold you.”  
Within scant minutes they were lying naked in bed. Beverly began to quietly weep and Jean-Luc soon joined her. They eventually cried themselves into a restless, dream filled sleep.

 

Over two and a half hours next morning, Jean-Luc and Beverly made love three times. It was the first time they had taken the time to really indulge themselves since returning. They covered a range of emotions with their lovemaking, from heated, urgent lust, to slow, languid passion and lastly to simple unadulterated love. In all they were left feeling profoundly peaceful and content.  
They’d been dozing when Beverly shifted in Jean-Luc’s arms and sighed. He roused, saying, “Are you all right?”  
“Mmm,” mewed Beverly in slight complaint “To be honest, I’m a little sore.”  
“Well,” said a mildly amused Jean-Luc. “If it’s any consolation, so am I. The head of my penis feels like it’s been battered and my testicles are quite tender.”  
“Battered?” Beverly said incredulously. “My insides have been pummeled! In fact, I wouldn’t mind betting an image of my cervix would show actual bruising!”  
Easing an arm over her and drawing her near, Jean-Luc nuzzled under her ear and rumbled, “Yes, I’m sure you’re correct, but as no one will ever see said image, it’s moot, isn’t it.”  
“Hmph!” snorted Beverly. “You and that cock of yours!”  
“Is that a complaint?”  
Beverly grinned and pinched his nipple, making him yelp softly. “Ow!”  
“Let that be a lesson to you! No, I’m not complaining and you damned well know it! I know a good thing when I see it and your cock is the best thing I’ve ever seen!”  
Rolling his eyes, Jean-Luc barely suppressed his smile. “Oh…so articulate! My penis is a thing now is it?”  
Beverly reached down and took him in hand. “As a matter of fact yes, it is…and a very handy thing it is, too!”  
He was just beginning to harden when he froze and closed his eyes. Javier’s voice was in his mind.  
“Jean-Luc?”  
“Yes, Javier?”  
“I cannot linger, but I just wanted you to know that there are, at the present time, civic changes taking place. Through a method of selection, agreed on by my people, a series of comités have been created to deal with larger concerns within our communities. And I have now been given the opportunity to discuss my decisions with these comités and arrive at mutually acceptable judgements. My knowledge of the law will be the basis of the decisions, but the burden of acting seul?...will have been reduced significantly.”  
“Alone.” Supplied Jean-Luc. “With the assistance of these committees you will not have to act alone.”  
“Oui.” Said a happy Javier. “It is a good start, n′est pas?”  
“Indeed,” agreed Jean-Luc. “Javier, I was wondering about your siblings, those whom you have not seen since taking your position. Is it possible for you to see them again?”  
The sadness in Javier’s voice made Jean-Luc regret he’d posed the question.  
“Alas, non, Jean-Luc. Once away from the complex, none of my family survived. It is disturbing mon frère, where once I would have rejoiced at their opportunity to continue to contribute to our society, now I grieve.”  
Jean-Luc sighed. “Grief is a constant companion, Javier, but as long as you remember them, they will live on in you.”  
“I know of your grief, Jean-Luc…yours and Beverly’s. Je suis désolé.”  
“Merci, Javier.”  
“Well, mon frère, I must go. Bonne chance, mon amis.”  
“Et tu, Javier.”  
Jean-Luc opened his eyes and Beverly watched as he began to smile.   
“Good news?” She asked, her eyes dancing.  
“Yes. Things are moving quite quickly. Javier is doing well.”  
“Mmm, good. Now, where were we?”  
He gently gripped her wrist as her hand began its journey back to his penis. “About to arrange a date with tissue regenerator, if I’m not mistaken.”  
As Jean-Luc threw the covers back and swung his legs out of the bed, Beverly grouched, “Spoilsport.”  
He grinned and sent her a mischievous wink. “You’ll thank me in the long term, Beverly.”  
Now out of bed herself and arms akimbo, Beverly glared, but not with any real venom. “Who’s the doctor here?”  
“Obviously you are, my love. But if we were to make love again now, in our present delicate conditions, believe me you wouldn’t thank me for it afterwards and I have no doubt it’d be my fault!”  
She tried to maintain the glare, but the hint of a smile spoiled the effect immediately. “Well of course it’d be your fault! You’re the one with the big cock!”  
Rolling his eyes, Jean-Luc waggled his head from side-to-side. “So tell me something I don’t know!”  
“Insufferable smart arse!”  
His eyebrows rose and a smug smile appeared.  
“Again, so articulate. You know, Beverly, you really are at your linguistic best in the mornings!”  
She turned abruptly and made her way into the en suite, saying over her shoulder, “Tais-toi, Jean-Luc. Come and have a shower with me.”  
“Shut up, Jean-Luc.” He grumbled. “Lovely, Beverly, just lovely.”  
Over breakfast their mood became more sombre and as the day wore on the effects of their early morning lovemaking disappeared. By evening they were quiet and very subdued. It was Beverly who, near midnight, said quietly, “We can’t put it off any longer, Jean-Luc. We have to go to bed.”  
“I know.” he replied softly. “But unless we make love, I don’t want to, Beverly.”  
She went and sat on the arm of his chair. “Dreams, Jean-Luc…good or bad, are just dreams. They can’t hurt you…and we have each other.”  
“Yes, but if we made love…”  
“We’d be hiding and putting off the inevitable. Now I can offer a mild sleep inducer if…”  
“No. We’re both going to have to come to terms with this. In my view, if we do this, it’d best faced together without any crutches.”  
“Agreed. So, Shall we?”  
He rose and took her offered hand. Looking deeply into her eyes he whispered hoarsely, “I love you, Beverly.”  
“And I you, Jean-Luc. Now come on…the longer we put this off, the harder it becomes.”  
As they knew it would be, the night was hell. Morning found them tired and cranky and with the knowledge that Patrick Adams would be back later the coming evening.

 

Over the next two weeks, Patrick was a frequent evening visitor with Jean-Luc and Beverly. It was a situation he was willing to make allowances for in that meeting, sometimes over dinner with his patients in the privacy of their quarters, he was setting a precedent, but as these were two very senior officers and exceptionally private by nature and given that he’d afforded Will the same luxury, he’d found more progress had been made than if he’d insisted on meeting in his office. It was hard work and there was still more to do, but after eleven intense sessions, a lot of headway had been made. His patients were well on their way to recovery.  
The ship was only a week away from Federation space when Beverly, on duty in sickbay and ensconced in her office, scowled at the soft chime from her monitor and seeing her name appear.  
Tabbing the monitor off with more force than was necessary, she picked up her stylus and sat back, a mischievous smile spreading across her face. Lifting her head, she called,  
“Crusher to Picard.”  
She could tell by his tone he was busy, but she ignored it.  
“Picard, here.”  
“Captain, you’ve just been flagged by the computer. You’re due for your annual physical.”  
“Yes, well, I’m a little busy right now, Doctor. Perhaps some other time.”  
“Sorry, Captain, this is the third alert.” Beverly lied. “I have the time now. It’ll only take a half hour or so.”  
He was clearly annoyed. “And I suppose you’ll nag me until I capitulate, despite the fact I’ve already told you I’m busy?”  
“Half an hour, Jean-Luc, that’s all. Surely you can spare me that?”  
“Not a minute longer! Picard out!”  
Grinning to herself, Beverly rose from her desk and breezed into sickbay proper. A quick search had her finding Doctor Ogawa in the analysis lab. “Alyssa, Captain Picard is coming down for his annual physical.”  
She got no further. The Asian woman’s eyes widened and her mouth slightly gaped. “How’d you manage that? He’s not due for about another month.”  
A trace of guilt passed across Beverly’s face and she flushed a little. “Well…let’s just say I was a tad cavalier with the truth. Anyway, what does it matter? You know how hard it is to get him down here. I virtually have to drag him in by his ankles, kicking and screaming!”  
Alyssa wasn’t fooled for a moment. Her eyes narrowed as she asked, “And when is your annual physical due, Doctor?”  
Wagging her finger at her colleague, Beverly shook her head. “Uh huh. You can’t ask me that.”  
“Actually, Doctor, I can. You might be the one to do the exam on the Captain, but you can’t examine yourself. That’s my job.”  
Beverly’s expression was a mixture of disbelief and irritation. “Oh, come on! It’s just a routine exam! Surely you’re not suggesting I can’t do that myself? I’m in perfect health.”  
“That may be so, Doctor, but you know the rules. No doctor, not even the CMO may examine or treat themselves. That would be a direct violation of SOP.”

“Alyssa…” Beverly tried; her tone wheedling.  
“No, Doctor. I’m sorry. I’m glad you managed to get the captain to come down, but if you did that to make your own physical easier, then I’m afraid you’ve messed up.”  
By the glower on her boss’s face, Alyssa knew she’d hit a raw nerve. “You hate them as much as he does.”  
“Damned waste of my valuable time! I know I’m healthy!”  
Alyssa shrugged. “Well look at it this way. It’ll be official and no one will nag you about making yourself available.”  
“Until next time!” grouched Beverly. The conversation came to an abrupt end as a sour-looking captain stalked through the main doors. Alyssa said sotto voce, “Once you’re finished with the captain, call me and I’ll examine you.”  
“Thanks.” Muttered Beverly sarcastically, but as she approached her annoyed husband, she plastered a sunny smile on her face.  
Just under half an hour later, Beverly read the last readout and smiled triumphantly, “All done and…” she made a point of consulting a chronometer she’d placed on the bench, “With two minutes to spare!”  
A grunt was her only reply. Rolling her eyes, Beverly said waspishly, “You can get dressed now.”  
As Jean-Luc slid off the biobed, Beverly said with exasperation, “I don’t know why you put up such a damned fuss, Jean-Luc! You’ve been in Starfleet what…47 years? And you know it’s SOP for all personnel to undergo annual physicals, yet every time you make it seem like you’re attending your own damned execution! It’s not that bad!”  
He’d put his socks on and was slipping into his trousers. Beverly couldn’t suppress a hungry look as he positioned himself. He arched one accusatory eyebrow, making Beverly blush, but he said nothing until he sighed. When he did speak, his deep voice was soft.  
“I had absolutely no trouble with attending my annual physicals until I took command of the ‘D’.”  
Frowning, Beverly didn’t understand. Jean-Luc said nothing more as he put his vest on and proceeded to tuck it in. Then suddenly Beverly’s penny dropped. “I’m the CMO. It’s my job to conduct the annual physical of the captain.”  
“Yes.” He said quietly. “It was torture, Beverly, something I dreaded. Do you have any idea how difficult it was for me to control my physical reaction to you? We were always alone in my private room me in nothing but my briefs…sometimes naked and you touching me? God…”  
He sighed and busied himself with putting on his T shirt. “Eventually I found myself getting angry with the entire situation. Even Pulaski commented on it during the year you were at SFM. So I found a way to use that anger, that frustration and built-up sexual tension by expressing it as reluctance to complying.”  
He summoned a smile as he zipped up his pants. “But I can tell you…every time…every single time, upon finishing with the damned physical you’d done, I would go to my quarters to…relieve my tension before returning to the bridge.”  
He donned his tunic and lifted his chin to better settle the fabric. Beverly, stunned, stood mute. That was until Jean-Luc said quietly, “However, now that we’re married, I’m going to have to change, aren’t I. It’ll be hard, this…behaviour of mine is pretty well ingrained, but do you know what might help?”  
Beverly shook her head, still silent.  
“I’d like to be present at your annual physical, Beverly. After all, turnabout is fair play.”  
Beverly blushed deeply and Jean-Luc smiled knowingly. “You are aware of course, that as captain, I have access to the medical records if I deem it necessary?”  
Again, Beverly nodded mutely.  
“Hmm, then you’d know that I’m aware it was your annual physical that was flagged, not mine. In fact, mine isn’t due for another month.” His smile grew. “Oh…and of course I checked the relevant protocols. You can’t conduct your own examination.”  
Silence settled until Jean-Luc stepped to the doors and triggered their opening. Stepping outside and catching Alyssa’s attention, he beckoned her over. “I believe Doctor Crusher is ready for her physical now and I’ll be staying. With her permission, of course.”  
To her credit, Alyssa sent Beverly a look, seeking confirmation. The red head nodded and gave a resigned sigh. “Okay, let’s get this farce over with.”  
Five minutes into the examination, Alyssa frowned. “Doctor Crusher, when did you last menstruate?”  
“Oh…um…actually…I don’t know. I got so caught up with everything…”  
Pursing her lips, Alyssa did another scan and did her best to keep her expression bland. “Well…it seems you’re pregnant.”  
“What?!” said Beverly and Jean-Luc in unison. Beverly snatched the medical tricorder and scanner module out of Alyssa’s hands and waved it over her lower belly. “Oh…Oh my dear God!” She whispered.  
“The cell division!” snapped Jean-Luc. “How far has it divided?”  
Turning her teary gaze to her husband Beverly somehow summoned enough voice to say, “It’s not a zygote, Jean-Luc…it’s an embryo.”  
He wanted so badly to believe, but they’d had so many failures, so many crushing defeats…  
“Are you sure?” he whispered hoarsely.  
Proffering the tricorder, Beverly said brokenly…“Look, Jean-Luc…our child.”  
He took the device and held it as if it were the precious child developing within his wife’s body. “Mon Dieu…merci, merci, Beverly.”  
Wiping at her falling tears, Beverly managed to say, “If there’s any thanks to be given, my love, it’s to Javier and his people. They restored your fertility.”  
“Oui…yes…Oh, Beverly…”  
Alyssa broke the emotional scene by saying quietly, “You have a slight case of hypertension, Doctor Crusher. I’ll give you something for it, but I really think…and forgive me…but with your age, perhaps you might consider reducing your working hours a bit? You’re going to begin to tire easily and there’ll be the inevitable aches and pains…all treatable of course, you know that, but this child…” She gestured to the tricorder, still held reverently in Jean-Luc’s hands. “Is something special and I for one don’t want to take any chances.”  
Jean-Luc’s head came up and he nodded. “Yes! I’ll make it an order if necessary.” Beverly was about to protest very vociferously, but one look of her husband’s face silenced her. Alyssa offered a knowing smile and picked up a PADD. After tapping in a few directions, she offered it to Beverly. “Your new eating and exercising regime.”  
Sighing resignedly, Beverly took it and said sardonically, “I take it the exam is over?”  
“For now, Doctor.” said Alyssa. “But I’ll expect you next week and every week thereafter until bubs is born.”  
Jean-Luc assisted Beverly from the bed, earning him a mild glare. “Don’t you dare get all solicitous on me, Jean-Luc. I’m pregnant, not sick!”  
He bowed, saying softly, “Of course, ma chère.”  
Beverly left the room, but Jean-Luc hung back. Alyssa knew he wanted to ask some questions. She provided the answers before he asked them. “Yes, Captain, she’s fine. The embryo is healthy, but unless I do an amniocentesis test, I can’t tell you the gender just yet and I’d rather not do that. Let’s allow things go along quietly for a while. Yes, if this pregnancy goes well and doesn’t take too much from her, then yes you may, if you both wish it, have more children in the future.”  
Jean-Luc gave a relieved smile and let out a long breath, but Alyssa could see there was one more thing not yet asked or answered. To her upraised eyebrow he flushed slightly and the doctor understood immediately. “Yes, Captain, in fact sex is good for pregnancies. It improves blood flow to the placenta. As often as you’d both like but nothing too vigorous.”  
Nodding and offering an embarrassed but grateful smile, Jean-Luc made a quick exit, catching up with Beverly outside in the corridor. As they approached the lift she said with obvious amusement, “So you know sex is good for pregnancy?”  
“Ah…yes.” Said a still embarrassed Jean-Luc.  
“Good!” grinned Beverly. “Because I’m in the mood for some celebratory sex right now.”  
They entered the lift and between decks Jean-Luc informed Will he’d be taking the rest of the day off.

 

As they entered their quarters, hand-in-hand, Jean-Luc couldn’t shake the feeling something wasn’t quite right. Beverly, who’d been buoyant and enthusiastic on their way home had become very quiet as they neared the doors and once inside she came to an abrupt halt. Jean-Luc turned, about to ask if she was all right when she pulled her hand free, covered her face with her hands and began to sob.  
He immediately took her into his embrace and she clung to him fiercely, her body trembling so badly she was quaking. Jean-Luc too began to tremble, fear and dread beginning to overwhelm him.  
“What if it’s a mistake,” sobbed Beverly. “What if any minute Alyssa’s going to call and say…”  
“…I’m so sorry; there’s been a terrible mix up.” Finished Jean-Luc, his own tears streaming down his face. “I know how you’re feeling, Beverly…as if it’s simply too good to be true.”  
“I’m so frightened, Jean-Luc,” Beverly was almost wailing. “If we lose this one…”  
“Come, sit with me. I’ll get us a cup of tea and we’ll…”  
“No! I want to make love with you…but I’m too scared!”  
She stepped back and fisted her hands in his uniform tunic. “What if we can’t make love for as long as this pregnancy lasts? My God, Jean-Luc! I need you!”  
Trying desperately to find a way to calm her, to calm both of them, Jean-Luc said quietly, “There are other things we can do, Beverly. It doesn’t have to be penetrative sex.”  
“But that’s what I want, what I hunger for! Jean-Luc…to feel you inside me…it fills me, not only physically, but spiritually! You feel the same way, don’t you?”  
“Yes,” he said reverently. “Being inside you completes me, Beverly. It is the most intimate, the most profound and exquisite act I have ever experienced.”  
“And you’re suggesting we can make do with other things?”  
Confused and frightened, Jean-Luc uttered words he’d rarely ever said. “I don’t know what to do, Beverly.”  
They stood in the middle of the living area, clutching each other in fear and uncertainty.

 

Since becoming a doctor, Alyssa Ogawa had come to understand how much more involved in people she had to be. As a nurse, there was a certain degree of separation, not that she wasn’t dedicated, compassionate or connected, but there was a definable difference between the very confidant and unique relationship that existed between a doctor and patient as opposed to those who cared as the support staff.  
So it was with this new knowledge that she assessed the situation that was now in effect with her captain and his wife, Alyssa’s boss, Beverly Crusher. Despite their initial euphoria and excitement, Alyssa knew those terrible months where the couple endured failure after failure, withstood the highs and devastating lows and the all-consuming depression that it was highly unlikely the news of this seemingly successful pregnancy was going to erase all that had preceded it easily. Thus, showing both compassion and perspicacity, she contacted counsellor Adams. A short conversation ensued, ending with the counsellor leaving his office immediately, a medical tricorder in his hands.  
The couple were still clinging to each other, weeping and lost when the chime sounded. Beverly’s reaction was to hug Jean-Luc tighter, burying her head into the crook of his neck and softly moaning. Jean-Luc screwed his eyes shut tightly, calling out brokenly, “Whoever you are, go away! We don’t want to be disturbed!”  
Patrick didn’t bother to reply. Without hesitation he ordered the computer to open the doors, using his medical override. Outraged, Jean-Luc twisted his head and shouted heatedly, “GET OUT!”  
Patrick Adams had always been a quiet, gentle person; throughout his life he had made a conscious decision to avoid conflict. He was no coward, far from it, but from a very early age he recognised the fruitlessness of confrontation, at least as expressed in physical violence. Psychological confrontation, however, was something entirely different and it was that which he was going to employ now.  
“Captain Picard! Doctor Crusher! I want you to…”  
Letting go of Beverly with one arm, Jean-Luc turned, his eyes blazing with fury. “If you don’t leave immediately, I will throw you out myself!” His cold, implacable voice gave Patrick no doubt he was absolutely serious. But the counsellor held his ground. “Captain, you’re frightened, so if your wife. On discovering the pregnancy your first reaction was disbelief, followed by profound joy. Now, you’re back to disbelief and hideous fear that at any moment this pregnancy, which you can’t quite bring yourselves to believe in, will fail, just like all the others.”  
At that, Beverly’s sobbing became worse and Jean-Luc’s anger rose. He let go of Beverly and in two quick strides, fronted up to Adams, fisted his hands in the man’s uniform tunic and began to propel him backwards. “You have only seconds to get out or I’ll…”  
“You’ll what, Captain?” Patrick amazed himself by sounding so calm.  
As Patrick was shoved out of the open doors and into the corridor, Jean-Luc released him, hissing, “You stay away from us!”  
As soon as the doors shut, Patrick was ordering the computer to allow him access again. Jean-Luc hadn’t even got back to Beverly when he heard the characteristic hiss of the doors once again opening.   
On seeing Adams entering again, Jean-Luc bared his teeth. “You bastard!” he roared and moved so quickly all Patrick could do was cover his head with his arms. But Jean-Luc was too well versed in martial arts not to take advantage of the open target. Patrick had lost a significant amount of weight, but his stomach was still hanging over the waistband of his trousers. With his arms raised to protect his head, his entire mid section was left unguarded. Jean-Luc drove his fist in and up into Patrick’s solar plexus, the lack of muscle tone making the blow even more telling. The counsellor dropped like a stone, curling into a ball on his side and wheezing painfully, the urge to vomit turning him slightly green. Bending, Jean-Luc grabbed the unfortunate man’s collar and began to drag him back towards the doors. That was until Beverly said urgently and loudly, “Stop! For God’s sake, Jean-Luc...Stop!”  
The captain froze, wanting to continue, but hearing the urgency in his wife’s voice began to seep through his rage. He looked up to see Beverly’s pale face, one hand covering her mouth, the other placed over her lower belly. In a quieter tone she said, “No more, Jean-Luc…Don’t hurt him any more.”  
Jean-Luc released Patrick and straightened. He was about to go to Beverly when she began to move. Tentatively she came to Jean-Luc, then knelt beside the still wheezing and gasping man. She took one of his meaty shoulders and tried to ease him onto his back while saying to Jean-Luc, “He had a tricorder when he came in. See if you can find it.”  
It was the work of mere seconds to locate the device and Jean-Luc handed it to her. The scan was mercifully quick and, as Beverly requested Jean-Luc’s help in getting Patrick into a seat, she said, “No permanent damage. Severe bruising and he’ll be damned sore for some days, but you haven’t done anything I can’t fix.”  
With Patrick sitting on the edge of sofa, Beverly urged him to bend forward and try to get control of his breathing. Once he’d managed that she encouraged him to deep breathe. Slowly a more natural colour came back to his skin and he was able to sit up, though he was still obviously in pain. Throughout all this, Jean-Luc had stood to one side, watching intently, his hands fisted by his side, ready and willing to vent his anger again.  
When he was able, Patrick looked over at his captain and said, “Feel any better?”  
Jean-Luc’s dark eyes glittered dangerously and he took a step closer. Patrick had never been punched before and decided, having been hit once, it didn’t really matter if it happened again. Besides, he was in the company of the ship’s CMO.  
“Think about it, Captain. All those months of frustration, despair, anguish and depression and all because your wife couldn’t do what you wanted her to. Produce an heir. That punch to my gut must’ve felt good. Something tangible to take out all that suppressed anger on.”  
His expression of simmering fury slowly changed to one of shock. “No.” he said softly. “No…I would never…”  
Placing his hands on his knees, Patrick sat up as straight as he could. “You just did, Captain.” He then turned to Beverly who was sitting beside him, one hand still on his shoulder. “And don’t tell me you didn’t revel in seeing your husband express exactly what you’ve been feeling too, Doctor.”  
He took the tricorder from Beverly’s hand, extracted the scanner module and, while Beverly sat in stunned silence, scanned her lower belly. He then turned the device so the couple could see it.   
“Here it is! Incontrovertible proof of the child growing safe-and-sound inside Doctor Crusher! Now why are you both so keen to believe you’ll lose it? Hmm? Didn’t Doctor Ogawa tell you everything’s all right? That apart from some mild hypertension, you, Doctor are fit and well and so is the developing embryo?”  
“We’re just so frightened.” Beverly whispered. “We want to make love…” tears trickled down her face, causing Jean-Luc to go to her and sit on the arm of the sofa, embracing her with one arm as he glared down at the counsellor. “…but we’re afraid. The one thing we’ve always had is each other…but…”  
“…But now things are different.” Patrick finished for her. “So what is it then? A simple matter of adjustment or are we talking about jealously here?”  
“What?” spat Jean-Luc. “How dare you!”  
Patrick tried to sigh, but he was still too sore. Instead he looked up at his captain. “Oh, come on, sir. You and Doctor Crusher have been living the ideal relationship! Apart from the inability to successfully conceive, which I freely admit must’ve been devastating, you two have been foot loose and fancy free! You’ve had no encumbrances, no impediments…have you, Captain. Have you ever given any thought to the realities of being a father? Nappies? Feeds...?” he cast a look at Beverly. “You wife’s mood swings?”  
When Jean-Luc remained mute, Patrick managed a small sigh and shook his head. “I wouldn’t mind betting you’ve fantasised about it for years, but until forty-five minutes ago, you never had to face the reality, did you. So maybe it was panic?”  
He turned again to Beverly. “And you, Doctor. Yes, you’ve been a mother before but that was a long time ago and with another man in your life. Tell me something…and I want nothing but brutal honesty…do you have confidence in your husband? Do you believe he’ll make a good father to your child?”  
Beverly looked up at Jean-Luc’s stricken face and he began to panic. “My God,” he thought. “She doesn’t!”  
But he needn’t have worried. A warm smile began to grace Beverly’s face and her eyes glistened with tears. “I know with every fibre of my being, Jean-Luc Picard will make an outstanding father!”  
Rising slowly and slightly hunched; Patrick said quietly, “Then make the most of what you have! Love each other and when the baby’s born, love it too! And for fuck’s sake, give up the persecution complexes!”  
Jean-Luc ignored the expletive, instead saying softly, “You would be within your rights to lay charges against me, Counsellor. Should you do so, I won’t contest them.”  
Patrick found a rueful smile. He was holding his stomach but was standing a little more upright. “Charges, Captain? Whatever for? I was told when I began my psychology degree that counselling was always going to be a challenge.” He smiled ruefully. “Although until today, I never envisaged that challenge would involve anything quite so physical…or painful.”  
He walked a few steps towards the door before he turned slightly and said, “I’ll see you both tomorrow.”  
The last thing he heard before the doors closed was both Jean-Luc and Beverly calling out softly, “Thank you.”  
Holding hands they went into the bedroom and made gentle love twice then cried themselves to sleep, though not in sadness, but joy.

 

The Enterprise had been back in Federation territory for three days and the counselling had been going well. A little tumultuous at times, but with the new dynamic of the pregnancy, which was progressing normally, it was always going to be intense.   
Patrick hadn’t thought it possible, but the pregnancy had deepened the love between the couple. Not in obvious ways, they were both too reserved, at least in the company of others, to demonstrate their love, but even entering their quarters was different, the atmosphere had changed and for the better. It was as if the child had already been born. Instead of walking into an abode occupied by a couple who, though undoubtedly in love and committed to each other, there was an unmistakable air of independence, now there was a definable air of expectation and joy, a tangible shift in the way in which the couple did things, looked at each other…lived.  
Only the senior staff had been told, Jean-Luc and Beverly still experiencing lingering fear that the baby might be lost and so wished to lessen the impact on the crew should that calamity occur. Typical, Patrick had thought at the time. Even dealing with something so personal, they thought of others. But of the senior staff it was Will who was the most profoundly affected by the news.  
Not long after being told, he dropped by one evening, a sheepish look on his face as he entered, one hand behind his back, the other supporting Charlotte who had her arms wrapped around his neck. On being offered a seat and a drink, he brought the hidden hand into view and presented a small, brightly wrapped gift.  
Jean-Luc looked at Beverly and saw that she was looking at Will with an expression of concern. His attention drawn back to his exec, Jean-Luc was dismayed to find the man quietly weeping.  
“Will…” he said softly.  
The big man summoned a watery smile and kissed his daughter, making her grin. “It’s nothing much, Captain. Just a silver rattle. Charlotte’s outgrown it and…well…Deanna had bought it when we found out we were pregnant and…well I just want you two to have it. It’s from all of us. Charlotte, me…and Dee.”  
“Oh, Will…” Beverly said quietly, her voice breaking. “Are you sure? Wouldn’t you want to keep it?”  
Will’s smile grew. “No. I know what your pregnancy means to both of you and I know how damned happy Deanna would’ve been.” he snorted and Charlotte chuckled. “About as happy as I am, actually. No,” he smiled. “Beverly…Captain. I want you two…you three…to have a gift that means something, something to us and to you.”  
Beverly and Jean-Luc looked at each other and it was Jean-Luc who spoke to his friend and colleague. “We accept, Will, with love and gratitude and we’ll be sure to tell our child when it’s old enough to understand the significance of the gift.”  
Charlotte was patting Will’s face, effectively spreading his tears. The big man grinned, his eyes, though teary, still held mischief. “Well, I’m kinda hoping you’ll have more than one. I’d like to think of a whole tribe of little Picards running around, giving the galaxy hell!”  
Beverly chuckled and took her husband’s hand, surprising Will, but he didn’t show it. “Well, let’s get this one out of the way before we think about a tribe.”  
Sensing their need to be alone, Will stood, bringing his hosts to their feet as well. He was surprised again when his usually reticent and reserved captain went to him and eased Charlotte from his arms. Now in Jean-Luc’s embrace, the little girl gave him a solemn look and he had the distinct feeling he was being assessed. It passed when she suddenly smiled and placed her hand against his cheek. He didn’t think twice, but paced a reverent kiss on her forehead. “You are loved, little Charlotte, as was your mother and is your father.” He whispered.   
Jean-Luc handed Charlotte back to Will and smiled. “Thank you, Will.”  
Nodding, the first officer said quietly, “Goodnight, Captain, Beverly.”  
In the quietude of their quarters, Beverly went to her husband and wound her arms around him.  
“Apart from the unconditional love you’ve always shown me, I think that was the most beautiful moment I’ve ever shared with you, Jean-Luc.”  
She kissed him and he sighed into her mouth. Drawing back, Beverly said, with tears glistening, “Our children are going to be so lucky to have you as their father.”  
His gaze was intense but incredibly tender. “Children? Plural?”  
“Well, we’ll see, but if this one goes okay…” she patted her belly. “I don’t see why not.”  
He lifted one eyebrow, his eyes twinkling. “A tribe?”  
She gently punched his shoulder. “Don’t push your luck, Jean-Luc!”

 

Later that night, lying together, Jean-Luc closed his eyes and concentrated. Beverly detected the subtle shift in him, a slight tension throughout his body and knew he was attempting to connect with his brother.   
“Javier? Javier, can you hear me?”  
Long minutes passed and Jean-Luc was beginning to think perhaps they were just too far away when Javier’s voice sounded in his mind. “Oui, Jean-Luc. I hear you.”  
“I have wonderful news, mon frère.”  
“Et que c′est?”  
Even though he was concentrating fiercely, Jean-Luc smiled. “Beverly and I are expecting a child. Your healers successfully restored my fertility. Javier, I owe them, I owe you a debt I cannot repay.”  
“There will never be any debts between you and me, Jean-Luc. My only regret is that not only we might not see each other again, your child may never meet our children…cousins, n′est pas?”  
“Oui, cousins. Yes, I too regret that but nothing is written in stone, Javier. We may yet meet again. Who knows what the future may bring? With your people agreeing to be our protectors and the agreement of your people to allow us-at least representatives of Starfleet or the Federation itself-to visit the new conscience regularly…who’s to say it might not be us chosen to come.”  
“That is unlikely though n′est pas?”  
“Yes.” admitted Jean-Luc. “But I will not give up hope, Javier. However, no matter what happens, we will have our connection.”  
“Oui, il ya cette. And you and Beverly, Jean-Luc. You will have more children?”  
“We hope so, but it depends on this pregnancy. If it’s successful and Beverly copes physically, then yes, we hope to have more.”  
“Merveilleux! Well frère aîné I must go. Believe it or not, I am to appear via a live link to my people. We are going to discuss the new direction my people wish to take. Much is happening, Jean-Luc… It is as if a new dawn is happening prior to the transcendence. I only wish I could live to see what my people will be like when the transcendence occurs…then to know what they will have become afterwards.”  
“I too would’ve liked to know that, Javier. Adieu mon frère. I will keep in touch. Give our love to your one and your children.”  
“Et tu, Jean-Luc et moi aussi, je resterai en contact.”  
The contact was severed and Jean-Luc relaxed. To Beverly’s quiet enquiry he related all that had been said. She smiled and hugged him. “You were in contact with Command today.”  
“Yes.”  
“And?”  
“Things are moving remarkably quickly, Beverly.”  
“But you’re…uneasy?”  
He sighed. “Not uneasy, exactly. With the subtle protection of Javier’s people, Starfleet can now devote more ships and resources to rehousing, relocating and rebuilding and Command is very keen to move forwards in finding suitable candidates for the conscience and his companion, but with so many orphans and the chaos….the loss of records…so many people displaced and trying to trace love ones…”  
“…You’re afraid they might not be as thorough as they need to be.”  
“Yes, but in admitting that I have to also admit with things as they are now and are likely to be for a very long time to come, it might not be as simple as Command being too keen to be as thorough as they should be. Their predictions are they’ll have suitable candidates within weeks, if not a month or two and that includes the psychological assessments.”  
“Well, given the protection we’re being afforded can you blame the council? This is a golden opportunity, Jean-Luc, they simply can’t ignore it.”  
“I know.” he sighed. He turned and kissed her temple. “I will come to terms with this, Beverly, it’s just that our current situation…”  
“…has brought out your paternal streak. I do understand, Jean-Luc and I share your misgivings, I really do, but I just can’t see any alternative. Not when you know what they’d do otherwise to get a new conscience.”  
They lay in silence before Beverly said quietly, “Javier spoke of a new dawn for his people. We’re facing a new dawn too.”  
“Yes,” grinned Jean-Luc. “I always did enjoy watching the sun rise.”  
He rolled to his side and gazed into Beverly’s eyes, the starlight picking up small blazes of blue.  
“I’ve been thinking. Doctor Ogawa offered us the opportunity to know the gender yesterday and we decided to forego that knowledge.”  
“Are you changing your mind?” Beverly was mildly surprised.  
“No.” he reassured her. “But if we have, say, nine girls in a row, can we utilise gender selection for at least one boy?”  
Beverly snorted and bumped her head against his forehead. “Idiot. Go to sleep, Jean-Luc.”  
He did so, a contented smile on both their faces.  
End.


End file.
